Wild Wild West
by AKirkland
Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town. USUK. Yaoi.
1. The Art of Being Overwhelmed

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, possible FRCAN, SPROM, GERITA, and GREJAP. Moments containing FRUK.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter One: The Art of being Overwhelmed

---

If there was one fact that Arthur Kirkland would bet his life on, it would be that he had never travelled somewhere as incredibly dry and barren as Sandy Flats, with its cracking paint and dusty barrels and horse-posts out front of every building. The carriage cabby tilted his hat at the doctor, nodding curtly before snapping the reigns and trotting off back in the general direction of the train station, leaving Arthur quite alone in front of an empty-looking street. What the Brit could have sworn was a tumbleweed floated by in the distance and he felt the warm sun making him incredibly uncomfortable in his several layers of clothing. He stepped towards the intimidating buildings, noting the shadows toppling over their porches, rocking chairs swaying, empty.

Finally seeing, after several buildings that looked either abandoned or unwelcoming, a sign hanging off of one of the porches with peeling gold paint that read 'Sheriff', Arthur let out a sigh of relief. He could find his room and board, his medical supplies, his patients, his quarters and see if anyone had the decency to leave a kettle for tea, even in this sweltering weather. The second step onto the porch creaked noticeably, and, almost immediately, someone called out from inside the darkness of the open room. An earthen, hearty smell of ripe tomatoes hit Arthur like a wall, adding to the suppressive heat as he stepped into the sheriff's office, head going a little dizzy.

"I told you, Alfred, I have – oh… Who are you?" A chestnut haired man asked, blinking his dazzlingly brilliant green eyes that matched Arthur's in what he had believed was an unmatched emerald hue. The sheriff's hair was half-covered by a large hat, one of the flaps hanging lazily to the side, the entire accessory lopsided and looking a tad goofy. The man looked pleasant but absent.

"Dr. Arthur Kirkland, pleasure to meet you, but I'm afraid the agency did not tell me your name, Mr…?" Arthur trailed off, gesturing politely and bowing curtly to the other, who simply fell gracefully into his chair, propped his boots up onto his desk, scattering several papers, and pulled a tomato out of a bag to take a bite out of it.

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo," he said simply, rolling his 'r's with a thick Spanish accent, smiling childishly. Arthur blinked and they stared at one another in silence for a moment, the Spaniard looking grateful to be eating a tomato and the Englishman watching him do so impatiently but in slight awe.

"Uhm, Mr. Carriedo, I believe that I am to be introduced to my rooms…?" he prompted, feeling the back of his neck begin to grow damp from the heat. He would take off his jacket were it not for the fear of large dark spots under his arms.

The Sheriff looked as if he had had a brilliant epiphany and reached for something in a drawer of his desk before the second step creaked loudly, making the Englishman wince before what sounded like a rowdy pub crowd crashed into the room, tumbling and shouting and making a hell of a commotion. He (it turned to be, surprisingly enough, one person) had bold blonde hair that looked terribly messy, with a particularly deviant strand sticking up from his part, wide blue eyes sparkling despite the dusty atmosphere, and a smile that looked like it could send a telegram from this barren town to Beijing via the north pole. From his gaudy hat with a leather strap around it to the gleaming spurs on his boots, the man was poised with an aggressively optimistic demeanour, attractive features, and toned muscles. Naturally, he had what could only be a tied-up bandit tossed casually over his shoulder, playing idly with the ropes binding the criminal.

"Oi! Antonio, bud, caught me another of 'em varmints! This un's Smarmy Sam, I believe. Tha's what, a good 200 dolla's for the dirty dog, righ'?" he asked, voice loud and smooth, unbroken by his rich accent. Arthur stood, nearly shoved out of the way by the man's mere presence, gawking at him as he tossed the unconscious villain to the side, breaking out into another spectacular grin as the Sheriff handed him the cash. "Yee haw! I'll be able t' buy me-self a bran' new rifle with my savin's now!" he hollered loudly, tipping his hat and turning to leave. Carriedo looked unmoved and stood up, trying to haul the particularly large criminal, Smarmy Sam, into the back room. Perhaps there were jail cells back there.

Arthur cleared his throat, becoming rather impatient with this small-town Western tomfoolery. "Mr. Carriedo, my _board_, if you _please_," he hissed, polite smile curling into a displeased scowl. The Spaniard nodded pleasantly, pulling a key off the shelf and tossing it haphazardly toward the doctor.

"Third house on the right, just past the General Store. Downstairs are your offices. No patients yet!" he said with a sincere smile before leaning over and grabbing another tomato out of the sack.

---

"Bloody Spanish bastard and that damned cowboy, nearly stomped on my foot!" Arthur huffed as he trudged through the empty street, counting the houses until he reached his new post. Quite suddenly, he heard a frantic shout.

"R-Romano! D-Don't d-do that!" a terrified voice hollered, squealing like a little girl from inside the General Store. With no one around to investigate, the Brit took it in to his own power, hurdling over the steps into the dark building and immediately looking around, running a hand through his impossibly messy hair. Two mahogany-haired boys, one looking nearly at tears, the other frowning deeply, stood by a stack of cans, the frowning one turning to see Arthur.

"WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT, YOU BASTARD?" he roared, turning almost purple and picking up a can. Arthur gaped at him, freezing in the spot as the metal cylinder flew towards him.

"Romano! Feliciano! What are you doing?" a curt, sharp voice barked, snapping the Englishman into reality just quick enough to dodge the flying can. He turned towards the doorway to the back room, which was now full of the overwhelming silhouette of a muscular blonde man, his hair slicked back with an intimidating amount of hair gel. The two Italians (he could safely assume that they were such based on his fundamental linguistic knowledge and the way that the darker haired one was raging, the other muttering 'pasta' under his breath) turned to face the man, saluting him sharply, not without loud complaints from the rude brother. "Well, get back to work. No more horsing around!" the man ordered before turning his attention to Arthur, who preferred his situation without it. "Who are you?" he asked, eyes narrowing, sounding entirely less approachable than the scatterbrained sheriff.

"Ah – err… D-doctor A-arthur Kirkl-land…" he stammered, taking a step back as the burly man took one closer, raising a blonde eyebrow in suspicion.

"And what are you doing here?" he pressed.

Arthur could only gesture wildly at the building next door, ready to break down and cry from all of these bloody insane people in the town. Home had never been so wild and deranged! Perhaps it was the heat; it might have driven these people a little crazy after a long while.

"You're from next door? Well get back over there, you lazy shmuck!" the other hollered, face turning a little red from the stress on his vocal chords. Arthur wasn't sure if 'shmuck' was a word, but decided not to press the matter, turning and having his feet nearly slide out from under him in his attempt to leave the loony General Store as quickly as possible, praying that he wouldn't have any more encounters before he reached his rooms next door.

---

Five beds, all made with crisp linen sheets, lined the downstairs to the left along with a small hallway that led to a private examination room and a very large store cupboard. Arthur smiled softly, letting the door shut with a click as he looked around, walking up the staircase to the direct centre of his vision, only a metre away from the front door. The staircase was squat and narrow, the ceiling much too low. There were no railings, and Arthur struggled to drag his baggage up, but eventually managed to reach another miniscule hallway with three doors. One led to a square kitchen with a round table with two chairs, a tea kettle on the stove and a cupboard hanging awkwardly over a sink embedded in a counter, directly next to an oven and stove range. A window on the adjacent wall looked out over the barren Western landscape.

The next door revealed a tiny bathroom with uneven, lopsided, crammed tiles, a mirror with what looked suspiciously like black paint smeared over a corner, and another small set of cupboards. The next room was a bedroom, with a rickety metal one-man bed, a shelf, and a gramophone, a few records strewn over the shelf. Another window looked out at the canyon far off.

Arthur swung his arm around, throwing his baggage onto the bed and flinching at the unattractive squeal it gave before sitting down in the lone chair by the gramophone. What a curious introduction to a ridiculous little town.

---

… Yes. It is me. Don't expect this to be finished, because I have a bad track record (take a gander at my stories; only the one shots are finished). It's been 4 months, one bad relationship, two messy break ups, and a lot of stress later. Please, guys, support me and maybe I can follow through with this one.

Thank you all very much, in advance.


	2. A Seemingly Forgettable Face

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST (Yes, Hungary tops).

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Two: A Seemingly Forgettable Face

---

Arthur sighed, dumping another near-bucketful of dust out onto the street. Must everything be so dusty and dingy and _warm_? The sunlight toppled over intricate machines, a stethoscope tossed onto the sheets of a metal bed, casting dark shadows and warm highlights. The Brit sat down beside the stethoscope, stretching his fingers in the golden light. Despite his hatred of all things warm, amicable, and kind, he could feel himself growing oddly fond of the thick rays of sunset, the way they wrapped around his fingers and splattered dark inks of shadow over his knuckles. His thumb, cast in the darkness, felt colder than his other digits. It was intriguing in its own way.

"Dr. Kirkland…?" a quiet voice called almost anxiously, accompanied by a hesitant knock on the door. Arthur stood up warily, raising an incredulous eyebrow before letting out a deep breath and strolling slowly to the door, listening to another knock. "Dr. Kirkland, are you in?" The voice had a softer accent and turned up politely at the end. Arthur grasped the handle firmly; ready to slam the door in his guest's face should he be as incredibly ridiculous as the other characters he met earlier in the day. However, the boy in front of him, while tall, was incredibly lanky and not nearly as intimidating as that blonde man, although they shared the same hair colour. He had a sheepish smile on his face, violet eyes twinkling childishly behind clear, round glasses. "Matthew Williams," he introduced himself as he shuffled his feet, reaching a hand out to meet Arthur's. The doctor took it gratefully, thanking the Queen for sending him someone that was at least partially sane. "May I presume that you are Doctor Arthur Kirkland?" he inquired with a bow of his head, ridiculously curly hair bouncing distractingly.

Arthur nodded absently, shaking himself to look away from the rogue strand of hair. "Please, come in, Mr. Williams," he said formally, standing aside. The blonde shook his head vigorously, causing the curl to swing about.

"No, no! I can't intrude. I was simply wondering if you would like to join us at our fireside story circle? And please, call me Matthew," he insisted, face thrown in shadow as the sun finally dipped below the low flat surface of the West. Arthur looked around a bit awkwardly before shrugging and accepting the offer, locking his door for good measure. Surely a few hours by the fire with his new neighbours and townsfolk couldn't do any harm. It wasn't as if cleaning couldn't be put off until tomorrow anyway.

They walked for some while, passing several buildings before coming to a small lot between what looked like a grungy saloon and a grandiose house, with a dining room so large it certainly could fit the entire town plus some for a dinner affair. A bright fire was lit in the lot, surrounded by several stumps. One man with long olive-brown hair was passed out asleep and the two Italian brothers (Matthew informed Arthur that their names were Feliciano and Romano respectively, and to stay away from the grumpy one) were watching the muscular blonde man play the harmonica with relative ease. He still skipped some notes and faltered at times, but Arthur admired his talents none-the-less. The blonde man set it down after finishing his song, smiling uncharacteristically softly at the happier Italian, who praised him. Arthur looked away and found a long, unoccupied log to sit on, Matthew on the dusty ground to his right. Even in the darkness of the settling night, the doctor could see that bumbling baboon from the sheriff's office smiling on the other side of the circle, chatting animatedly with Feliciano and the muscular blonde man.

"Jeez, L'dwig, you'd think tha' Gilbert'd be missin' us somethin' awful by now," he said, voice warm and smooth. "While you're a right sma't player, I don' think anybody c'n beat your brother!" The blonde man laughed curtly but did not respond. Replaying the boisterous man's comment in his head, the Brit was able to deduce three pieces of vital information about his neighbour. A) His name was something similar to L'dwig. B) Gilbert was his brother. C) Gilbert was not in town.

The Spanish Sheriff sauntered over to the circle, accompanied by a very pretty girl with caramel hair and what could only be described as a predatory smile. The girl sat next to Arthur, promptly introducing herself as Elizaveta Herdevary, apologising that Roderich, whoever the hell he was, couldn't be there that night, but that she would make sure to introduce him at the next possible time, and that they should have tea at some point, since wasn't that what Brits did, drink tea? She wore a beautiful desert flower in her hair, eyes shimmering as she observed Arthur's every move in an intimidating manner. Other people gathered around the fire, until the arrangement was as such: Arthur, sitting awkwardly next to Elizaveta who was chatting animatedly to the Englishman. Then, there was the sleeping man, Romano, Feliciano and L'dwig, and the unnamed smooth-talking obnoxious blonde cowboy, having a (not so) quiet conversation with Matthew. From what the Brit could piece together, they were twins.

"All right, everybody, let's get this together; we have a new bloke, and I'm sure he's very confused as to why he's here," Elizaveta announced, placing a strong grip on Arthur's shoulder. "So how about everybody introduces themselves and then we'll start the storytelling?" Everyone gave a polite nod and Romano kicked the sleeping man, swearing loudly as Elizaveta continued. "Arthur and I are already acquainted, so you're next, Heracles!" He made no noise, already asleep again. The caramel-haired woman chirped in his place, "This is Heracles Karpusi and while he doesn't look like much, he's a great cowboy and has helped with hunting down the Ru-"

"Do you think it's quite time to introduce our guest to that just yet?" L'dwig's sharp voice interjected, causing Elizaveta to go quiet. There was a pregnant pause with everyone avoiding Arthur's eyes until Feliciano elbowed Romano in the side, causing him to bark insults.

"Ve! This is my very irritable brother Romano, and I'm Feliciano!" he sang, closing his eyes cheerily and grinning. "This is Ludwig!" he continued, wrapping his arms around the blonde who was scowling, mumbling something inaudible behind Romano's incessant cursing and Feliciano's absentminded happy noises.

"And I'm th' _**hero**_!" the annoying blonde cowboy shouted, standing up and striking a pose, grin nearly sparkling in the darkness. "Alfred F. Jones, cowboy an' _**hero**_extraordinaire!" he hollered, causing Arthur to wince look away, biting back a scathing comment. Matthew gave the Brit an acknowledging nod before pulling Alfred down to sit on his own stump, whispering something to him that the blonde was ignoring pointedly, sending Arthur an award-winning smile. Arthur swore that the blush was from sunburn. "Who'll be goin' first then?" he continued, addressing the group who were all beginning to break into private discussions, attention spans too short to pay attention to the 'hero' for more than a couple of words.

Feliciano raised his hand, waving it about in an enthusiastic manner, eliciting a few angry groans from his brother and an amused grunt from Ludwig. "Veee~! I have a story! I have a story!" The brunette was almost out of his seat at this point, trying to raise his hand up as high as it could go without standing up. The group fidgeted awkwardly, but no one else made an attempt to suggest going first in the story group, so Elizaveta nodded. The Italian made an excited squeal. "For my story, I'm going to tell about… the creation of _pasta sauce!_" he chirped, leaping straight out of his seat and spinning around before the fire. Everyone let out a deep, exasperated breath as if they had heard the story several times. Arthur corrected his posture and listened politely, watching as Feliciano ignored (or simply couldn't see) the bored expressions.

"A very long time ago, in a world of magical pasta, with lasagne seas and conchiglie sea shells, with campanelle trees and farfelle and fiori flowers that have oricchieli carts with rotelle wheels going through them, carrying stacks of rotini and radiatore and gemelli, there was a terrible terrible _terrible_ drought! Everyone was terribly thirsty, and despite all of the wonderful noodles being boiled to until they were the perfect texture and consistency; not too squishy-wishy and not too crunchy, no one could enjoy their pasta! It was all terribly d-d-dry!"

It was at this point in the story that Feliciano began to get choked up, clawing his way onto Ludwig's lap and sobbing wildly. The blonde muttered something (seemingly) comforting in the younger man's ear, causing him to sniffle and then mumble incoherently.

"A little louder, Feli, so they can hear you," Ludwig whispered in a softer voice than Arthur was sure the German could ever do before that moment.

"A-And then it rained pasta sauce and everybody was o-okay…" the Italian said loudly, sniffling but smiling and obviously feeling much more assured. There was a long pause before Alfred stood up, making another pose and shouting much louder than necessary.

"It seems like we're in need of a' _awesome_ story! Who's ready? How 'bout the Hamburg'r Hero again? Everybody _loved _that 'un, am I righ'?" There was a collective groan, even from Feliciano who was still sitting in Ludwig's lap, much to the horror of the German. "Oh, fine… What 'bout… A ghost story!?" Arthur perked up, his interest piqued by the supernatural. Flickering his eyes around the circle, he noted that several others seemed fairly interested as well. "Well, it happened in a town not so differen' from our own, with a spooky building at th' end o' th' road. N'body ever wen' in th' house 'cuz it was rumoured that there were…" he paused, standing in the heat of the fire so that light flickered from under his face. "_GHOSTS!_" Everyone gasped, save for Arthur and Ludwig and Heracles, who was still asleep.

"Yes – ghosts! Tons o' them! Tall, skinny un's with bags under their eyes and fa' un's and short un's and mean un's and – and – " the hero began to falter, looking around him suspiciously as if a ghost were to pop out of the dust and attack him. Matthew stood up at the same time as Elizaveta, announcing that the story circle had come to a close. Arthur wondered if they were always this… counterproductive.

---

Don't really have an author's note for today. Thanks for the reviews, keep them up. Hope this didn't sound too rushed. Writing the ending late at night.


	3. Of Squash and Warnings

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Three: Of Squash and Warnings

---

"Really, Matthew, despite Elizaveta and Antonio's insistence, you don't have to pal around with me all day," Arthur said quietly as the quiet blonde dragged him into the General Store, much to the dismay of the Brit. With the sun high and Arthur's closet consisting of clothing proper for rainy, cold England, it was looking to be another sweltering day, and he had no intention of spending it with those sodding Italian brothers and their incessant bickering.

"No, no, Arthur, I couldn't let you fester in that building; you'll surely be losing some brain cells with all of those disinfectants in the air!" Matthew said cheerily, voice soft. "Besides, you mentioned how dull and dreary it was out here, and I thought that I could treat you to a house-breaking present." Arthur looked at him, pausing his search for the two Italians to quirk a smile.

"Really, Matthew, it's too kind of you," he whispered politely, looking around the store to see Feliciano sitting on the top of one of the shelves, swinging his feet happily and sipping a pop.

Matthew chuckled and purposefully strolled over to a large rack adorned with an intimidating amount of white packages, all wearing pretty painted pictures of flowers and vegetables. "Arthur, do you like to garden?" he asked, looking at the packages.

The Englishman looked up from inspecting a can of beans. "Well, I suppose I would enjoy it thoroughly, but I've never had a garden myself, no. Why?" The other shrugged and plucked several packets off of the rack before bending over and inspecting a few interesting tools in a basket beneath the rack. The Brit walked up behind him, looking down as the bespectacled man smiled up at him and showed him what he had collected; squash, zucchini, corn, and beans. "Will these even grow out here?"

"I'm sure they will if you water them enough. The Native Americans called them the Three Sisters, well, plus the zucchini. If you plant them correctly, they will help the others grow and fertilise the soil," he answered, dumping the packets and tools onto the nearby counter. Ludwig came out from the back room to ring them up, prompt as ever. Arthur took a moment to wonder how this considerate, thoughtful, polite man was in any way related to the blubbering, loud cowboy that was his twin. He was shaken out of his thoughts as Matthew gestured for them to leave the store. The Englishman followed close behind and they walked for some time along the dusty, hot, unpaved road.

"Matthew, where do you live?" he prompted after a short argument over who should carry the bags.

The blonde looked up and gave Arthur a half-smile, appearing a little wistful. "Oh? I work at the town saloon with my Uncle Francis. At times, I think he likes to believe he's a showgirl instead of a bartender," he laughed, but stopped himself when he saw Arthur's lost expression. "You see, we don't have any showgirls, since our town is so small. It's more of a pub than anything, with a bit of a restaurant added on. Francis and I man the place. You should come by tonight for a drink, eh?" They had reached the porch of Arthur's house, and the Englishman frantically attempted to gather all of his bags. Francis. That was a French name. He was going to go drinking with a French man. Surely he wouldn't live to see tomorrow.

"Naturally, Matthew, it'd be a pleasure."

"Oh, and one other thing," Matthew said, expression darkening. He pushed Arthur forward into the shadows of the porch, pressing him against the peeling paint of the exterior of the building. His voice was hush and tense as he continued, "The others won't appreciate me telling you about this, but I think that's it's fair that you be warned. You seem like a gallant sort of guy, and you should be properly prepared, but do act surprised. The others will have my head if they know that I told you. Something about new comers thinking too much. About how you might not understand."

Arthur tried to cut a word in edgewise. "What are you-"

"Hush! Do you see that right yonder canyon?" Matthew pointed to the nearby cliff, into which was a deep gorge. Arthur nodded; it was a beautiful place, and he had admired it from his veranda on many occasions. "It's said that there's a waterfall deep in the canyon, surrounded by lush plants; a paradise in this hot hell." The Englishman quirked an eyebrow. The secret was a waterfall? Matthew continued however. "Rumours say that there's a group of bandits camping out there, a family of sorts. The leader used to be good pals with my brother, and now they're out for his blood and mine. Everyone in town is at risk. One's a mastermind, innocent and simple on the outside, but a logical and interrogative genius at heart. If she finds you, she'll take information any way she can. To support her, she has her younger sister, a trickster and bladesmith. Sadistic and cruel, she's been known to be seen with a knife on her at all times. Between them in age but out scaling them in power is their brother, my own's old friend. His name is Ivan Braginski, and travelled here with Alfred. That's all I can tell you, Arthur, but keep wary. Don't wander off at night, don't get too snoopy, or the others will suspect you. And by all means, stay away from that gorge!"

With that, Matthew left Arthur quite alone in the cold shadows of his porch, fumbling for his keys to open the door. Trying not to think too hard about the ominous warning, the Englishman dumped the packages onto his small kitchen table, finding a note fall out with them.

_20 o'clock, across the street and two buildings to the left. Mattie._

---

No one noticed Spain's disappearance in the last chapter, right? Teehee? P: And the fun starts up! My first reviewer's request will be coming up in the next two chapters, thankfully it was already in my (35 chapter) outline. Yes. This will be long. But I really love this story and I think that I will be able to finish it. Please stick with me guys, and help me pull through exams.


	4. A RunIn With a Frenchman

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Four: A Run-In With a Frenchman

---

Arthur stood in front of the saloon, its classic swinging doors challenging him to take action and go inside the building. However, ever since his frightening warning from Matthew earlier that day, the doctor couldn't help but feel a little nervous. Especially about that Francis bloke! He seemed unbearably shady- what man in his right mind would volunteer to be a showgirl? Hopefully Arthur could get his drink from Matthew instead of that draft Frenchman, to protect himself from drugging. Pushing the doors open, the Brit was met with an intriguing sight; all three tables in the surprisingly small room nearly sparkled in perfect cleanliness, polished ruthlessly by someone. More than likely Matthew, who called out at that moment, setting down the glass he was drying to wave. "Arthur! You made it!" his cheery friend called out. "Uncle Francis is just in the back; he should be out soon. C'mere, choose your poison," he gestured to the assortment of liquor behind him.

"Hm, do you have scotch on you?" the Englishman asked politely, taking a seat at one of the stools and looking around for any furtive Frenchman. He'd dealt with them plenty in the past. Sodding frogs always trying to find holes in you pockets or worse, your trousers. Never trust a Frenchman, that's what he told himself. Unfortunately, he had found himself sleeping with the bloody bastards on more than one occasion, however, no one needed to know about his… sexual endeavours in this town. A clean slate, a brand new place. He should give this Francis fellow a clean slate as well. Arthur was a professional abroad, and stereotyping in a small town where grudges obviously lasted was not a wise thing to do. The Brit took a deep breath, but was quickly interrupted.

"Scotch? Surely ze newcomer does not want zomething more… exotic?" A thick accent pealed in the air, as an attractive tall man with a striking resemblance to Matthew stood in the door way. He smirked at Arthur, raising an elegant eyebrow and gesturing with his full arms. "Mattieu! You are yet to introduce ze lovely man to me! Who ees your friend?" he prompted, sauntering over to the bar with long, confident dance-like movements.

"Francis, this is Dr. Kirkland. Arthur, this is Francis," Matthew introduced plainly, handing the scotch to Arthur, who felt a twang of familiarity. Meeting new Frenchmen in a bar with alcohol. Strange an unwanted memories came flying back to him with startling speed, and he was almost thankful to hear Francis' distraught cry to pull him away from them. The blonde looked a cross between offended and upset.

"Non! Arthur and I will be on ze best of terms, surely it ees not too much to ask to call you by your given name? Non? Marvellous!" There was not much room to argue without seeming incredibly rude. The Brit wasn't sure if Francis would hear him out however strong his argument was, anyway.

Arthur blanched, taking another gulp of scotch. "Well, I suppose Arthur will do, however-"

"Splendid! Mattieu, won't you go scurry and take out ze rubbish? I can, ah, satiate our dear Arthur in ze meantime," Francis ordered, leaving the peaceful blonde no room for negotiation. Arthur and Matthew shared a worried look as the other moved as slowly as he physically could, obviously wary about leaving the two alone. Arthur gulped, feeling the back of his neck grow hot, trying to ignore how Francis leaned close while he finished his scotch before refilling it. "So, Arthur, what brings you out to zees little town? All ze way from Angleterre? I am sure zat zere ees nothing of interest to a doctor in zees parts! So _dry_ and _lonely_ out here in ze desert, with not a _single _person to keep you company!" The Frenchman had somehow sidled his way around the bar, sitting on the stool adjacent to Arthur's own.

The Brit leaned away, sipping his new drink tentatively. "Erm, work." He addressed curtly, placing his scotch on the bar. Francis, however, placed his fingers over Arthur's, clamping them onto the glass and slowly raising it to the other's lips for another sip before pulling it down again. He blushed deeply, watching the Frenchman's determined stare with unease. "But you have Matthew, surely you aren't too lonely?" he added innocently.

Francis chuckled, letting Arthur release the grasp but holding their fingers entwined. "But Mattieu cannot provide ze sort of company I seek, Arthur…"

"F-Francis, I really don't-" he protested, attempting to stay polite, but was cut off by the other's lips forcefully attacking his own, hands flying in search of something to grab on to, to push the Frenchman away. Arthur promptly pulled back, not allowing a continuation of the frightening act. Unfortunately, Francis' hunger was not quelled. He leapt forward, knocking the scotch over the bar. It made a loud clanging noise, the amber liquid spilling everywhere. Arthur felt it dampen his shirt as the other shoved him over the counter, roughly pressing him onto the wet surface. "You frog! I'm not that dru-" His words were cut off again, hands pinned expertly above his head to give way for the Frenchman's groping fingers, Arthur's voice muffled against the aggressive lips.

"Mattie, ya in here? I left my hat…" Alfred's loud voice echoed in the room, and for once the doctor was thankful to hear his idiocy. Francis looked up with a glare, and Arthur fell back, head making a quiet thud as he fainted.

---

Sorry for how short this is… Anyway, prepare for hilarity to ensue in the next chapter!


	5. The Importance of Marmalade

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Five: The Importance of Marmalade

---

"Took a nasty fall, 'e did, after that damned bartender nearly took 'im out. I swear, if I ever get mah hands on that slimy sonuvabitch, he'll be deader than a rattlesnake after I gone shot it dead. You hear me? After I gone _shot. It. Dead._"

Arthur groaned; his head throbbed painfully enough to be confused with a bloody marching band, cymbals ringing in his ears, drums pounding behind his eyes, the brass section screeching in his forehead. He raised a hand to comfort himself, still too wary to open his eyes, throat raw, feeling hardly rested at all, though the warm room and bright lights filtering through his shut eyes told him it was well past mid-day. The doctor rolled over symptoms in his head, consoled by the practical act. Hangovers, the result of drinking too much alcohol, resulted commonly in, but were not limited to, headache, irritability, nausea, fatigue, dehydration, body aches, vomiting, dizziness, and a loss of appetite. Arthur groaned again.

"Hmm? Is mah little cliffrose finally waking up from 'is hibernation?" a thick Southern drawl said smoothly, causing Arthur to warily open an eye, the other still squinted shut. It was bright as all-get-out, the windows thrown open to entice a non-existent breeze, curtains pulled aside to reveal the blinding sunshine that warmed the room. The Brit grunted loudly, reaching behind himself and putting a pillow over his eyes.

"Get out of my house," he snapped, rolling onto his stomach and hoping the loud cowboy would go away before he was forced to get out of his bed and shoo him off. Much to his dismay, the blonde broke out into guffaws, and when he raised the pillow up to shoot him a threatening glare, noted that he was clutching his sides, obviously finding something entirely hilarious. "Care to share with the class, Mr. Jones?" the doctor snarled, still scowling from under the pillow.

"Why, haven'tchya noticed? You're campin' out in mah house!" he snickered; looking over those clear spectacles to chuckle at the Brit's widening eyes. The smaller blonde lay there, shocked for a moment, before an entertaining blush began to spread over his cheeks, turning his face from a pleasant pink to a brilliant crimson.

"W-What is the meaning of this!?" he roared, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and tossing the pillow at the grinning cowboy, thanking the Queen that he still had clothing on. "T-taking advantage of an in-in-inebriated man and d-dragging him to your home and – and the Lord knows what, I'll tell you!" Arthur stammered, grabbing his coat off of the chair next to the bed, glaring and shouting and making a general fuss as he put the coat on and his hat on backwards, a whole number of fancy accessories misplaced in his fury. "And – And undressing him – how _uncouth!_ Y-You silly Western types, t-think your smooth talking can get you anywhere, well let me tell you _this!_" Arthur stomped up to the cowboy, who was looking a little confused but generally amused and glared, still maroon, at him, trying for the life of himself to look intimidating. "If you _dare_ gloat that you – that you did _anything,_ you nitwitty bloody arse, I'll have your _head!_"

"Naw, naw, calm your horses, doc, I dun do nothin'. In fact, you's best be thanking _me_ for savin' ya from Francis. Lord knows little Matthew ain't gonna do nothin' 'bout it, can't say no to 'is uncle. I just hauled ya outta there after blondie gotchya drinkin' too much. You dun always shout this much, do ya?" The cowboy said slowly, drawing out his words with a pleasant smile. Arthur blinked, face still hot and head still pounding before opening his mouth, thoughts ceasing as Alfred pressed a finger to his lips. "'Cuz it's gonna be a long breakfast if you're gonna be more venomous than dogbane in mah coffee the whole time."

Arthur paused, feeling sheepish, before shaking his head softly. Alfred grinned again, promptly yanking the hat off of the doctor's head and helping him out of his coat. "Have an idea what time it might be…? Arthur inquired, straightening his shirt as they walked into the adjacent room. Alfred shrugged and sauntered, for the lack of a better word, over to his small kitchen. A metal oven that resembled a very angry man squatted next to a large, glass-paned cabinet full of teacups and other fancy dishware, looking thoroughly neglected. There was a nearby sink and counter, hiding behind a wooden table with a patterned cloth and two similar chairs which looked as if they might fall apart. Pots hung from the ceiling, rifles were posted to the walls, and Arthur nearly hit his head on a colander as he peered over to look at a pretty bunch of wildflowers.

"Well, it's never too late for breakfast, that's mah motto! Ya wanna give th' fire a prod for me, it's gettin' kinda low," Alfred babbled, searching through some cupboards for two chipped mugs and a large can of what stunk of coffee beans. "I like mine _black_, but you're welcome t' have it any gosh darn way ya like." Arthur was terrified that he might be talking about the coffee, but, despite the cowboy's obvious lack of tact and societal awareness, didn't want to make a fool of himself by asking for tea. _He_ would keep his gentlemanly stature, even if the blonde found it appropriate to snatch unsuspecting doctors from their malicious French fate.

Soon enough, the Brit found himself with a plateful of burned pancakes, some coffee that might be dark enough to be considered liquid charcoal, and a few strips of shiny bacon. He resisted the urge to vomit, but he wasn't sure that it was only from the food. Perhaps the cowboy had done him some good by rescuing him from Francis; Arthur wasn't sure that he could have escaped on his own, the Frenchman seemed intent on capturing the doctor and keeping him for his own… raunchy desires.

"D'ya like it? I'm not s'good at some of it, Matthew's a right good shot at cookin', ya should ask 'im some time to whip ya up something tasty. He'll take off your boots!" Alfred laughed at his own joke and Arthur made a consenting grunt, gnawing on a strip of bacon that he had managed to spear with his fork. Eventually, he gave up on the bacon and set it aside, claiming, after a sip of wretched coffee and charred pancake, that he wasn't very hungry from the night of drinking. Thankfully, Alfred took this as a decent excuse, and asked Arthur about his own cooking.

"Err… It's… foreign. Most people in this town simply don't appreciate it since I don't come from their bloody hometown families with their traditional recipes stuffed up my sleeves."

"I heard it was lethal," Alfred said simply, finishing a pancake in his second bite. Arthur looked a combination of cross and hurt as he repeated his former argument with a much more stern disposition. The blonde shrugged it off and downed his coffee before reaching forward and grabbing the Brit's, finding no complaints.

"Well, I must say that I shall be going now. Thank you, Mr. Jones, for letting me rest in your house for the night, and for the… lovely breakfast," Arthur said quite suddenly after a pregnant pause, feeling a little uncomfortable. He slid into his jacket and did up his shoes before topping it off with his hat, thank goodness right ways this time, and turning to the door. Alfred smiled widely and waved with his whole arm, nearly knocking over several items and making the poor chair squeal in response. Arthur snorted under his breath and gave a small wave, merely a trill of his fingers and exited the house, walking rather aimlessly until he reached his own porch, deciding that he would try making his own pancakes, but that this time, he would put marmalade on them, to remind him of home.

---

Sorry for the lateness. I got a concussion. And found a great Western Hetalia fic that really put me off writing.


	6. To Which There is no Matching Sock

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Six: To Which There is No Matching Sock

---

"Really, Arthur, I doubt that anyone will notice your socks, those trousers come so low and your shoes so high, I hardly think anyone would be able to tell if you chose to wear no socks at all!" Matthew sighed, fixing his own elegant bowtie another time, curl springing up no matter how many times the doctor had used various gels to try and hold it down. "And really, it's only a dinner party. Elizaveta and Roderich host them all the time; there is no reason to get so snippy about your appearance."

Arthur shot him a reproachful look. Matthew held up his hands and bit back a smile. "All right, you caught me. Roderich does nothing but get herded by his wife, the cattle driver never lets the poor man rest until he's served everyone drinks and made her look like the best trophy wife she can be." The two laughed comfortably, sitting on the stools in Arthur's cramped kitchen, two cups of tea and a large pot hidden beneath a tea cosy sitting between them. "But either way, Arthur, don't let it get to you; Elizaveta's got a mean right hook and her frying pan's met Gilbert's face more than once, but she's hardly anything to be frightened of."

The Brit looked at him disbelievingly. "Oh, that's _sure_ to put a damper on my butterflies! Remind me how apparently violent she is! Who is this Gilbert bloke anyhow. Funny sort of name, I'd say."

"Well, he's a funny sort of guy. Ludwig's brother, off studying at a University on the Eastern Coast. – "

Arthur interrupted the blonde. "Really now? What does he study?"

Matthew chuckled. "Oh, don't get your hopes up. He's hardly the type of person you would enjoy talking to. Loud, abrasive, and quite the confident, obnoxious type. Declares everything as 'awesome', but only if it's related to him in the first place, and always throwing himself into things prematurely. The absolute opposite of anyone that you would be remotely attracted to, romantically or platonically." Arthur couldn't help but taste irony, however misplaced it seemed to be, and decided to return to the thought at further notice, now intrigued by the faint blush on Matthew's cheeks. Had the Brit not heard the disheartening speech, he would have suggested that the curious blonde had a little crush on this Gilbert fellow, however 'loud' and 'abrasive' he may be. "Anyhow, he is coming home soon, I do believe. Probably kicked out of the school, if I don't know him any better- dear Lord, the boy's a ruckus! Can't keep his head on straight, no goals or aspirations except to be the best cowboy he possibly can. He's a good shot, I don't know anyone who can shoot more precisely than he, but Gilbert's too much of a loose cannon to pursue anything like it. I do believe he went in for a Liberal Arts degree; I wonder if he'll come back a learned boy, like you."

Arthur, quite startled by this ranting, simply nodded throughout the entire thing. Matthew seemed quite content on raving about Gilbert, how _oh-so attractive_ he thought he was, _how tall and gangly_ he really looked like, _and those eyes!_ However, the doctor believed that it was time to stop Matthew, before he said anything embarrassing, and judging by the flushed pink that spread across his face, he was getting quite worked up over the subject.

"Interesting fellow, your uncle!" interjected the Brit, slamming his tea cup down to capture Matthew's attention. The blonde looked up and blinked, a keen sneer crawling up his jaw.

"Oh yes, whatever happened to you after you escaped poor Francis' clutches? Alfred rang me and gave me a very heated talk about keeping my uncle in line, but I don't believe that I heard the entire story." Arthur gulped, pulling on the tea cosy to pour himself another cup.

"Absolutely nothing happened; your friend was simply kind enough to offer me a place to stay for the night since his place was closer. Don't jump to such silly conclusions."

"Why Arthur, didn't you know that Alfred was my brother?"

The Brit snorted his tea before recomposing himself. "You don't say."

Matthew laughed, his smile wide and gaudy like his twin's. Arthur wondered how he hadn't seen the similarity before. "You had no idea! Don't even try and hide it!"

Arthur blushed lightly and looked away. "Let's change the subject."

"Oh, let's not. I want to hear _all_ about your fanciful adventures with Alfred. Tell me, how loudly did you moa –"

"MATTHEW!"

The blonde laughed even more wickedly, wrapping his arms around his sides, wiping away tears from his eyes. "Oh, Arthur, you're so funny to tease. Look at how red you turn!" The Brit merely scowled and threw the tea cosy across the table, laughing as it landed on Matthew's head like a funny hat. The two felt the tension slide away, and the doctor sighed.

"Really, Matthew, I hardly knew you had such a… devious side to you." The other snorted in response and sipped his tea politely. "How long until we head over to the party anyway? Will there be a fair amount of people?"

"Oh yes, there's always the whole town at Elizaveta's parties. Even people who don't turn up for anything else and are hiding about in their socks show up- it'll be a crowded event, and don't expect to remember anyone's names."

---

Sorry for lots of dialogue.


	7. A Formal Affair

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Seven: A Formal Affair

---

Arthur had to admit, the atmosphere was pleasant, the people kind, the drink rather strong, and he had an odd feeling that Elizaveta might prey on him at any moment, but he tried to quash that sort of thought upon recognition. Candles upon chandeliers, with thick streams of wax threatening to fall on the mingling crowd illuminated the room, giving off a soft, warm glow. It was all very warm, and everyone looked positively golden in the candlelight, jostling and joking and laughing. The doctor had to admit that even Alfred, who had bumped into him and nearly spilled wine all over the both of them, looked quite sharp. He had lost Matthew somewhere in the crowd, and was now admiring Elizaveta's porcelain collection, which, he noted, was more used, but hardly as pretty as Alfred's.

"Arthur! There you are, c'mon, there's someone we've got to find. You'll get along smashingly, his name is Kiku, he's rather short, and just as hermity and stodgy as you, so don't get all worked up, he's got to be in here somewhere!" Matthew appeared out of no where seemingly, set the doctor's wine down on the buffet, and yanked him into the crowd. Tall men laughed, their accents and words muffled and joined in interesting, civilised, formal conversation. Arthur had never felt so at home in this foreign Western town, noting that perhaps even Sandy Flats had a bit of class when it cared to.

"Where is this man again…?" Arthur asked, turning around and bumping into someone who was certainly not Matthew. He was a little taller, his jacket a little darker, hair a little wilder, a little shorter.

"…Howdy?" Arthur wanted to hit himself, or at least choke and drown in the wine that he had left on the buffet. Not this – this foolish cowboy! How – Matthew would be dead _meat_ when he found him. He knew how much his brother annoyed him! "What, ya gonna stand there like a fish…?"

The Brit blinked and snorted, turning a light pink and looking away. "No, I didn't mean to run into you." Alfred grinned – what for, Arthur was sure he would never know – and pulled him into a tight circle of people talking. Feeling rather short next to Alfred, Ludwig, Antonio, and whom he could only assume was Roderich, due to the way that Elizaveta was cooing and clinging to his arm, giggling every now and then. Arthur wasn't sure if he was disgusted or simply shocked; she had seemed so… dominant and masculine back at the campsite, but now she seemed nothing more than a pretty housewife to the stoic Roderich. Truly, the man looked ill, with his hair parted oddly and flung wildly over his head, a strand skewering off into space, his violet outfit looking gaudy, expensive, and extraneous due to the not-so-brilliant colours that everyone else wore.

"Ah, Dr. Kirkland, please let me introduce myself. I am Mr. Roderich Edelstein, and this is my wife- " The brunette began, but was cut off sharply by his wife's commanding but subtle tone.

"Ms. Elizaveta Herdevary, we've met before, Roddy. See this is why I simply insist that you attend those little campfires; you miss out on meeting so many people instead of sitting around all day playing that piano or writing memoirs!" Roderich scowled, but only Arthur recognised it as such, for it was merely a toying of his lips, and only Arthur had enough experience with scowling to note it.

"I do not believe that now is the proper time to discuss this matter. Perhaps after dinner – "

"No, darling, you must promise me _now_ that you will be at the next one!"

There was a long pause, in which Ludwig and Alfred were making (one sided) conversation, and Arthur was left to stand awkwardly and listen to Alfred laugh at his own joke.

"Fine, but just one." Elizaveta giggled and cocked her head to the side, shooting Arthur her one-sided predatory smirk that gave his spine a cold chill. For a lady, Elizaveta seemed more intimidating than any of those loose-canon cowboys.

The conversation returned, prickling tension gone as Alfred waved his arms around, knocking several goblets of wine over and nearly hitting Francis' face, but by the way that he paused and sneered, drawl sounding rather _dangerous_ in his apology, Arthur wasn't sure that he was all that upset about nearly knocking the Frenchman out cold. The Brit snickered to himself, and was glad that no one heard it over the din of the party. Eventually, Ludwig and Antonio went off to search for the Italian brothers, who were making a bit of a ruckus near the pork. Elizaveta and Roderich began to bicker again, leaving Arthur and Alfred to make awkward conversation on their own.

Silence had never seemed so loud. Arthur stared at his feet and watched them shuffle and fidget, holding his cup of wine – when had he gotten it? – a bit tighter than necessary, remembering Matthew's joke about the two of them shagging after Francis nearly drugged the doctor. Alfred rubbed the back of his neck nervously, observing the corners of the ceiling as if they were the most interesting things in the room. One of them coughed, but neither was quite sure which it was. Arthur had the sneaking suspicion that Matthew had taunted Alfred as well, and wondered if it was considered kosher conversation to discuss the blonde and the rumours he was undoubtedly spreading. Bless the Queen, his reputation to shreds!

"… Do ya like cows…?"

Arthur looked up, raising an eyebrow and biting back a chuckle. "Cows?"

Now, Alfred shuffled. They appeared to be performing an odd sort of dance. "Yea, cows."

The Brit scoffed. "I'm more partial to horses. I'd rather fancy a ride than a steak."

"I can show ya mah horse some time, she's a real beauty."

Arthur felt his cheeks grow hot at the suggestion, though he had no idea why, and wished it away. "That sounds very... pleasant."

Alfred laughed and leaned forward to prod Arthur's nose in a completely socially inappropriate manner – really, had he no manners? – before letting out another loud guffaw. "You're kinda cute when you go all red."

Arthur had never heard something so ridiculous.

---

Don't get your hopes up; I like to tease.


	8. Uninvited Guests and Blundering Idiots

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Eight: All about Unintended Guests and Blundering Idiots

---

The two sat in awkward silence for a moment more, Arthur unsure of how to respond to the _compliment_. "I most certainly am not _cute_! H-how dare you say such a thing!" He stammered, turning an even more dangerous shade of maroon. Alfred chuckled and leaned backwards, blue eyes sparkling with delight in the candlelight. Arthur scowled and crossed his arms, feeling quite ungentlemanly. Leave it to that babbling cowboy to ruin his perfectly formal and societally correct evening with his – his - ! Arthur was simply too offended to say anything.

"Aww, don't get yourself all worked up, you'll start attractin' attention t'yourself!" Arthur stuttered some more, grinding his teeth together and digging his toes into the soles of his shoes, watching as Alfred sent him that confident, zealous smile, nearly fuming steam from his ears. The blonde cut off his indignant response though, suddenly grabbing his arm.

"I do say! Let go!" The other made no sound, pulling the Brit behind him and holding him firmly against his back, ignoring the sputters of rage. The doctor noted, after nearly shouting himself hoarse, that Alfred smelled of leather, dust, and a tiny bit of motor oil; the kind from those blasted noisy cars in the city.

"Everyone, get out! Go, all of you!" Alfred roared, making Arthur flinch behind him, turning heads and eliciting gasps from the crowd. Arthur wished he could see what was going on, if that damned cowboy would simply let him _go_ so he could be a part of whatever prank he had planned.

"Oh, but _Alfred_, surely you don't want to bring fear to all of my lovely friends, da?" A cold, thick voice said, causing some fair lady to shriek and collapse, at least from the sound of it. Arthur noted Matthew's angry whisper, and with a quiet snort realised that it was Francis who had fallen. He seemed to be the only person entertained however, still pressed to Alfred's back by the other's strong arm, hidden from view.

When the cowboy responded, the doctor felt himself pale; never had he heard that smooth, warm Southern drawl so vicious and steeled. "It's in ya best int'rest to leave now, Braginski," he spat through his teeth, using the hand that was not holding Arthur pinned to him to pull something from his pocket, grazing Arthur's arm in the process.

"Now, now, comrade, if you wish to play with guns, then you are asking to play a different game," Braginski sounded cheery, delighted, and overall quite amused by the situation, but it sent chills up Arthur's spine and was at once thankful of the barrier that Alfred poised between them. The doctor was sure that Braginski was as fearsome a sight to see as he was to hear. Wait – bless the Queen, that name! He'd heard it before, but where…?

"_And by all means, stay away from that gorge!_"

Of course, the day that Matthew bought him the squash seeds at the General Store; he had nearly forgotten what with the entire ruckus about that damned cowboy. Was this the infamous Ivan Braginski, once-friend of Alfred's, who ran a bandit group in the canyons? Surely not, bandits didn't simply wander into town and raid formal dinners! Where were his sisters, were they there, but simply silent, standing tall and mysterious behind him, but dwarfed even in their height by Ivan, the greatest and most powerful brute of the bundle? Were their skins dark and their eyes ominous, holding knives and guns and whips? Did they all have golden teeth and wicked eyes, hair cut and grown and balding? Were they hilariously short, but of a strength beyond measure?

Alfred's tone was stern and cold, his arm unrelenting on Arthur's chest. "Leave, Braginski, or I'll shoot this here bullet right through ya forehead and hang ya on my mantle," he growled, making Arthur shiver again.

"But we've only began to play~!" The doctor could hear his sickly smile, the way that his knuckles cracked and how everyone's breath hitched in their throats. Another voice, this time just as dangerous but half as frightening spoke up in his Spanish accent, cocking a gun. Arthur wished beyond measure the turn and see who the attackers were, what the situation looked like, but knew that if Alfred was so intent on hiding him, surely he had a reason.

"Mr. Ivan Braginski, you are a wanted criminal of the state and if you do not skeedadle your fine ass out of my town this instant, I'll have Alfred here lodge a lovely bullet in your temples."

The Russian laughed, causing a few people to shift uncomfortably. "Oh, you all jest so merrily! I shall leave, but do thank Ms. Herdevary for her silvers, da?" With that, he turned and walked slowly out, Alfred's hand still raised, shoulder muscles taut. The footsteps faded, but hooves, more than one set, for sure, ran off.

"My silver! He took my grandmother's silver, oh, Roddy, he had those nasty women steal it all while we were distracted! Those bandits, I'll fry them in my cornbread, I will!" Elizaveta shouted, her words dainty but the tone of her voice more than threatening. Arthur knew at once that while the town was small, the people were stern and able to protect themselves. Alfred's grip slackened and he shot the Brit a quick, vulnerable glance before looking at Elizaveta.

"Then we'll simply hafta chase 'em down, ma'am." The sky had long since grown dark, chasing down the bandits would be unreasonable for sure, but Antonio nodded.

"Alfred, Ludwig, Berwald, Heracles, saddle up, we'll catch them before they reach the gorge!"

There was a long pause as Alfred released his arm from Arthur, leaving the other feeling quite lonely and cold. Antonio hummed in thought before whistling loudly, cutting the gossipy chatter.

"Arthur, you come too, there might be some, ah, struggle."

The doctor's heart sank into his feet.

---

LOL. I suck at exciting parts.


	9. Lightning in a Sea of Gold

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Nine: Lightning in a Sea of Gold

---

"C'mon now, they're on the flats! We can make it and stop 'em before they reach the gorge!" Alfred roared, untying his pinto from the post in front of Elizaveta's house. Berwald, a tall, stocky man that Arthur had not met before, was already saddled and prepared for action, Heracles looking like the calm before the storm, Ludwig expressionless, but not as cold as Berwald, Antonio's face wild with a roguish passion. Blinking, confused, Arthur stared at the callused hand that Alfred showed him, leaning over on the brown and white horse with an impatient expression on his face. "Take mah hand, Arthur, we gotta hurry!" His voice, returning to the soft drawl coaxed the doctor to gently place his (notably) smaller fingers onto the other's, making a small yelping noise as his entire arm was jerked forward with surprising strength, landing behind the cowboy on the horse, awkwardly half-on the back of the saddle, which was obviously not meant for two. Alfred hardly waited for him to settle in before spurring his horse onward, and with a fury of whinnies, the group was off like wildfire.

Arthur nearly screamed; he had ridden a horse, yes, in a paddock, with a helmet, and sitting properly on the thing, not sliding around without stirrups or reigns or anything similar! The Brit grabbed the only thing that wasn't moving fast enough to make him dizzy, which happened to be the blonde sitting in front of him, wrapping his arms around the other and burrowing his face into his back. The others ranted and raved and roared various commands at one another, lassoes twirling through the air, guns readied, eyes steeled with vicious intent.

"Hya! C'mon, Little River, girl, we gotta go faster! Gosh darnit, if I don't catch those willy-nippin' varmints, then I'll never let myself sleep!" Alfred hollered, voice rumbling against Arthur's ear as he pressed himself closer, daring to open an eye to the scene. Ludwig rode adjacent to Alfred, slicked back hair coming undone in the flickering winds, leaned forward on his white horse as he spurred her faster still. Beyond him, Arthur could see Berwald, stone-like and stoic. The Russian's laughter pealed through the air, making Arthur fight the urge to whimper. Never had he heard something so _happy_ but so _sickening_ in all of his life.

Alfred howled in excitement, adrenaline nearly bursting from his seams. Arthur could feel it, the way his heart beat against his ear. He straightened his back and looked over the other's shoulder, cowboy hat flung back. The doctor was immediately lost in strands of golden-blonde hair, stinging his face. But Arthur could note one thing through the sea that was Alfred's hair; they weren't going to make it. They wouldn't catch the Russians before they entered the gorge.

Alfred roared in rage, ears hot and red, and Arthur ducked down to avoid his swinging elbows as he attempted to rip out his hair in fury. "I swear! One day! One day I'll catch that there dirty bastard and I'll hang 'im from his gosh darn _ankles _in the county jailhouse, ya hear? Ya _hear that, Braginski? THE COUNTY JAIL!_"

The hooves began to slow, the haunches of the horse becoming more rough as they skidded to a trot, turning widely and snorting, every one, man and beast, gasping for breath. Arthur winced; he could now see Heracles and Antonio, as Alfred turned the horse, their shoulders bent forward in defeat. Braginski had made off with Elizaveta's silvers and the whole town's dignity. Arthur swore that he could still hear the echoes of Alfred's rage reverberating off of the canyon walls, or perhaps it was simply in his own mind, shocked by the pure, concentrated hatred that such a naïve, kind man bestowed for the bandit.

The walk home was slow and painful, and seemed to take hours longer than the ride there, the way that the horses hung their heads low, their riders similar. Alfred and Antonio chatted idly, discussing something that Arthur was too tired to care about.

"I'll hunt 'im down myself, I will!" Alfred insisted, shooting a dark look at the Sheriff, who chuckled simply and shook his head.

"You're the best man we have here, Jones, but I can't let you go in that gorge alone. We don't have enough hands around the town. Gilbert will be coming home in the next couple of days. Give him a night to catch up with friends, and then he'll be ready for a new adventure with you."

Alfred scoffed. "Ya mean getting drunk off of ya'lls asses? I know that you, Francis, and he are close, but every time liquor gets involved, there's hell to pay, and Elizaveta's not in a right keen mood already." Arthur chose to stop eavesdropping at this point, letting his eyes close against that soft curve between Alfred's shoulderblades, arms still wrapped around the taller man, hips fitting the horse's steps. He did not wake to the soft kiss on his forehead as he was placed in his bed, making an assortment of fussy grumbling noises as he settled into his pillows, house locked but the window by the second patient bed left half-closed where someone had left the room.

Arthur awoke the next day, disoriented and frazzled, feeling stiff and sore and worried to death, though he couldn't remember quite what about. He threw his legs over the side of the bed, noticing that he was still in his fancy-attire from the dinner party. Surely he wasn't drunk enough last night to imagine the entire adventure? No, he couldn't have. Impossible!

As he stood to fix a pot of his finest Earl Grey tea, the Brit noticed a small note on his desk, scrawled on in messy writing.

_You cannut complane that I undressed you withoot your perrmision this time._

---

Alfred's spelling sucks.


	10. A Man in Overalls

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Ten: A Man in Overalls

---

Arthur decided that the silly hat was well with it; he had been sunburned badly enough already. He put it on his head, the straw material chafing his forehead. The Brit sighed. Perhaps this was just what thee doctor ordered: a day in the sun to figure himself out. He snickered at his own joke. Hands full of little packages and tools, Arthur walked down the stairs and out his back door from the private examination room. He was met with the same stifling silence as his fist day in Sandy Flats, but now it seemed almost comfortable. Familiar. Unlike the hubbub of the city, this silence did not change. It had no foreign sounds, no unrecognisable voices, although he was certain h could hear the Italians arguing far off.

He opened the little gate to the fenced-off area, stepping inside with tender caution. Arthur dropped the seeds on the ground, kneeling in the dirty soil. However familiar the silence had grown, the Earth was still as bitter and dry. Arthur was famous for his gardening back home, able to make flowers bloom and trees grow and exotic fruits appear, but he simply couldn't see how _anything_ could grow out here in the nothing. Like hell if that would stop him, though.

He splayed his fingers over the ground. It felt soulless. Barren. Full of nothing. But Arthur had heard of people who lived out in these sort of places, perhaps in this very spot at one point. Sure, his cooking wasn't superb, but if Arthur Kirkland couldn't grow plants in this hell hole, then no one could.

Arthur set to work. This ground had not been cared for in a long time. He laughed; maybe that was why it was so bitter and cruel. It simply felt unloved.

The silence overtook him again as his hands grew dirty and the Englishman sank further into his own thoughts, What a wake-up call he'd had this morning, what with that silly note. It was as if he and Jones shared a secret, an inside joke that only the two of them found funny or understood. This created a bond between them that Arthur certainly did not anticipate beforehand, a sort of amicable friendliness. What was the bloody joke, though? That somehow, Alfred – no, Jones, kept bringing Arthur to bed? Arthur turned light pink at the thought. Certainly not that! That made them sound like lovers and that simply wouldn't do.

Arthur admitted that he was thoroughly embarrassed about the entire evening last night, and the morning that he had spent with Alfred. The mere memory made him flustered! First their heated argument, which had been admittedly one-sided, then their breakfast and the awkward conversation at the party, which was an odd sort of flirting in his own way, Arthur confessed to himself. He turned even pinked. Oh! And the way that Alfred – argh, no, Jones, had pressed him up against his back, hiding him from Braginski's view – still, why, Arthur could not figure out – that vulnerable look they shared and then Alfred – no, god damn it, _Jones_ helping him onto the pinto and his heartbeat so close to his ear and the adrenaline and the noise and the disappointment and the note and –

A crow cawed sharply, bringing Arthur promptly back to earth, looking down at his little trenches, ready for seeds. He- he couldn't explain what came over him; why he smiled so fondly and turned so read when reading the note. It was ludicrous! Romance and Arthur were like pickles and marmalade. One sour and the other sweet and horrible together. With a wince, Arthur was reminded of which one he was. Memories came back to him.

---

_Rain hurtled at the windows, large, scarcely decorated rooms dark yet ornate. Impassable walls and unfriendly statues stood in corners, peering down at the blonde boy, home from University for the summer holidays. His eyes, a piercing green, were as lifeless as the room, and the shadows beneath them as haunted as the empty fireplace, his sandy hair now almost dusty._

_A small boy opened the door to the dark room, observing with awe the way that the other stood staring up at the white marble man, with an elegance, backlit by large windows without the curtains drawn, letting in the moonlight. He closed the door behind him, a wicked sneer on his face._

"_Oh _boo hoo_, Arty's __heartbroken__, better call Mum! Better come home for holidays since he got his poor little heart stomped on by some boy at school! Better not hang out with his friends like he always does, better come dirty our doorstep with his bloody _TEARS!_" The boy laughed, pointing and waving his finger, large sailor hat nearly falling off of his head as his snickered bitterly. _

_The sandy blonde boy looked up, wiping away fresh tears and roared, turning closer to crimson with every passing moment. "GET OUT! Peter, if you don't get out of this room this _INSTANT_, I will put you in a parcel box and ship you all the way to Kent and let you bloody walk home!"_

_A flicker of hurt passed through his younger brother's eyes before he turned and skipped out of the room. "Who would ever love you?"_

_With that, the door closed, and Arthur was left with no one but his shadow and the marble man._

---

Arthur packed the soil over the seeds, watering them with plenty, his heart low and his head hung. Peter had been right. To recognise his feelings would only mean heartbreak and rejection. The Englishman wasn't sure if he would ever be ready for that. He stood, closing the gate behind him and centring his overalls. Because, anyway, who would ever love him?

---

OKAY WOW. This is actually a _very_ important chapter. It's not just a filler, I swear. Here's why.

The garden is a recurring theme in this story and has some huge symbolic stuff in later chapters.

It shows Peter's relationship with Arthur. Bonus points if you figure out the _real_ reason why Peter is so bitter to Arthur. Don't post it in the reviews; send me a message. P: I'd really like to see if I made it obvious enough.

Clearly, Arthur came to some conclusions.

I purposefully planned it so that every 5th chapter would have something very important. You'll notice it more as the story evolves.


	11. The Humour of It All

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Eleven: The Humour of It All

---

"Arthur! Arthur wake up! Wake up!" a familiar voice squealed, bouncing on the Englishman's poor rickety bed, making it whine in protest. The Brit opened one eye, glaring daggers up at whomever had the _idiocy_ to wake him up in such a fashion.

"…Matthew…? How did you get into my house…?" He asked as the curly-haired blonde gave him an adorable pout.

"You left the downstairs window half-open, so I just climbed in and oh, won't you get up now? It's a terribly important day! Gilbert's coming back to town and you simply _must_ meet him!"

Arthur scoffed and buried himself in the thin sheets. "What happened to the snarky and sarcastic Matthew I've grown so fond of, and when did he get replaced with a bloody Labrador?" He shoved the blonde off of him, ignoring the way that he spun around the room as if he was a fairy, sweeping off across the hall to the little kitchen, leaving Arthur to groan. He could faintly hear Matthew's humming and tinkering, obviously fixing him a pot of tea. Arthur swung his legs over the edge of his bed and growled, storming into the kitchen. "What do you think you're doing?!" He fumed, grappling onto the door frame in order to keep from falling down the stairs.

"I'm fixing you a cup of Earl Grey; no time for a pot this morning, we've got to get going. Go, go get your clothes on! How do you like it? Honey? Milk? Sounds good. Why aren't you dressed yet?" Matthew chirped, buzzing around the kitchen with an energy that made Arthur's head spin. Reluctantly, he returned to his quarters to don something appropriate for meeting whoever had stolen the blonde's heart.

Sooner than Arthur could count pixies, they were out on the street, the Englishman still yawning and rubbing his eyes, blocking out Matthew's attempts to get himself serious again and stop acting like a ruddy school girl. He blinked slowly, looking at the crowd that had gathered, waiting for this Gilbert fellow to arrive. Arthur listened to their whispers;

"He's a bit of an ass, but he and Alfred will be able to take care of the Russians."

"No, Roddy, I'm only here to protect you from that bastard!"

"Bad Touch Trio, here we go!"

"I hope he comes soon!" Matthew said quietly, violet eyes nearly sparkling in the rising morning sun. Arthur blinked again, a smile tugging at his lips, unsure of what to think of this man. No one but Matthew seemed fond of him, although Feliciano was saying something to Ludwig that could have been flattering. Ludwig looked almost as eager as Matthew, but in a more subtle, subdued way.

All too slowly, a little black carriage approached the town.

Matthew seemed to finally have collected himself, but Arthur couldn't help but notice the way that Elizaveta fumed, arms possessively wrapped around Roderich. Ludwig looked a combination of cross and expectant, Feliciano cooing and caressing his arm. Antonio and Francis sat on the rocking chairs on the porch of the Sheriff's office, ready to be the first people to greet him.

If there was one thing that Arthur was not expecting however, it was Gilbert's appearance. Skin pale enough to be painted on, hair like snow, eyes a piercing, brilliant red. His smile, a knowing sneer, glistened in the sun, boots tall, clothing dark. "Who missed me?!" he hollered, and was immediately pounced on by Antonio and Francis, who ruffled his hair and tackled him to the ground. Arthur looked up at Matthew, who had a pained expression on his face as everyone in the town began to walk towards their old friend. Eventually, Ludwig pulled the trio apart, but Antonio and Francis remained close to Gilbert's side.

"Bruder! Have you missed me? Of course you have!" Gilbert said loudly, giving the stoic blonde a friendly (but forceful) punch to the arm. Ludwig's lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. Next, the albino skipped over to Roderich and Elizaveta, who looked murderous.

"RODDY!" he roared, putting his arms out for a hug, but was met, instead, with Elizaveta's frying pan (had she been carrying that before?), leaving his face looking rather red. How it didn't break his nose, Arthur couldn't be sure. "Oh, come on, Eliza, we all know that you're just bitter because your husband likes me more than you!" Roderich turned a slight mauve colour and Elizaveta roared, holding the frying pan out for another vicious swing. "Joking! Joking!" he said, holding his hands up in defense, although his smirk didn't look like he was truly jesting.

Finally, he turned towards Matthew and Arthur, giving the blonde an eager smile. "Mattie! How 'bout you go make me some pancakes?" he said shortly before turning back to Antonio and Francis and pulling them into a huge group hug. Looking up at the bespectacled man, Arthur could see a mixture of adoration and hurt on the curly-haired blonde's face, the way that his eyes twinkled behind those glasses, and his mouth curved in an almost-smile.

Arthur had never felt like killing someone as much as he had at that moment. What, that annoying prat _Roderich_ had stolen Gilbert's attention but Matthew wasn't good enough for anything but pancakes? Not even a hello? A friendly wave? Simply a curt order?! The Brit fumed, but Matthew just gave him a sad smile.

"He's great, isn't he?" he asked, looking down at the shorter man. The doctor gave him a forced smile and nodded, not having the heart to tell Matthew that he deserved so much more.

---

I was very conflicted about naming the last chapter 'A Man in Overalls' or 'The Marble Man', but I went with the first one because I feel it's more important in the story as a whole. Just clearing that up.

Oh, and here's your Prussia. Didn't turn out quite like you expected, hmn? C:


	12. Of Orange Sunsets and Flowers

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Twelve: Of Orange Sunsets and Flowers

---

Arthur was still angry about that Gilbert fellow by the time he went to sleep that night, hearing romping shouts and guffaws of laughter. He felt sick on his stomach; didn't that blunt idiot see how Matthew felt? Couldn't he understand the obvious attraction that the blonde had for him, despite his flaws? What had he done to deserve Matthew's affections, the boy who was so caring and kind and thoughtful, when that bastard was obviously just narcissistic and blunt? The Englishman fumed, angry beyond all measure. Nothing! Gilbert had done nothing! Matthew pined after him while he was gone and hardly spared him a second glance once he returned. Arthur hoped for the life of him that Matthew didn't follow through with making those ruddy pancakes.

The doctor woke with the same feelings, walking down his staircase, tea cup in hand, to check on his garden and water it some more. But as he walked by the front door, he noticed something on his porch. Curious, the doctor opened the door to find a little note with a wildflower sitting on top. He picked up the flower, admiring the white petals and yellow centre. It didn't have a particular smell, not sweet nor bitter. It was plain but beautiful in its own way, and Arthur couldn't help but smile a little. He then took the time to read the note.

_Gilburt and me are going to invastergait the gorje. For my litle cliffrose._

Arthur had never closed a door faster, nor had he scurried across the floor to his copy of _Desert Flora and Fauna _faster, throwing it open on the second patient's bed, flipping to the 'c' section. Sure enough, an article with a sketch showed him how it grew, that it was a perennial with white blooms, that it preferred dry, steep climates and how it bloomed in spring and summer. But the article did not explain the silly swooping of his stomach, the way his heart fluttered, lighter than air as he tucked the flower behind his ear and chuckled while he looked in the mirror. The article did not explain the pinkness in his cheeks nor the way that he found Alfred's abysmal grammar endearing. Nor did the article explain the way that he coloured when he remembered hearing Alfred's voice the moment he woke up, or the bitter coffee that the cowboy seemed to love so much. The way that he looked at him, eagerly, waiting to see if his breakfast was tasty, or the way that he looked so terribly sharp in that fancy dinner attire. The article did not explain the warmth in Arthur's chest when Alfred was angry, nor the way that the memory of being pressed against his back, falling asleep, arms curled around him made him smile.

He turned to the half-open window. …When had he left it open? Recalling Matthew telling him yesterday that he had climbed in through the window, Arthur felt a surge of panic. How had he- who could have? He looked around. Nothing had been stolen… He remembered the night of Elizaveta's party. Alfred had brought him up to his room and left him there, somehow exiting the house…

Arthur stared at the window, a breeze rolling in. His door had been locked. Alfred did not own a key. The blonde cowboy must have left by the window, and, unable to close it fully from the outside, left it half-open after his departure. Arthur felt his cheeks light up and scowled to try and make them return to their naturally colour. He closed the window.

This was all very silly. He dropped the cliffrose from his hair with a forceful pluck, letting it fall gracefully onto the bed. He stood in the room, the smell of medicine hanging limply in the air, and, had he not been so accustomed to it, it would have made his head hurt more than it already was.

_Who could ever love you?_

Arthur was a fool. A bloody, blasted, bleeding, ruddy fool. Alfred – no, _Jones_, could never love him. These feelings were simply the result of someone being friendly to him. He was getting out of control, letting fanciful fantasies and romantic dreams turn him soft and get the better of him. The doctor had moved out to this barren town, not for love or for handsome cowboys, but for work. For plain, honest, boring work. There was no one here that would care for him; there was no one in the whole of England that had cared for him once Peter turned bitter that summer he returned from University. Arthur spared the note a glance.

_For my litle cliffrose._

Even though he had just told himself not to, the words made his chest swell enormously, and he cupped the flower in his hands again. He was a fool to believe that that blundering cowboy could ever fall for him, that that possessive '_my_' made the phrase more intimate, that the pet name '_cliffrose_' made it warm. Alfred had called him that before – the first time they talked alone together, in the blonde's bedroom, when Arthur had first woken up. He blinked, surprised with the accuracy with which he could recall the moment.

Gingerly, he placed the flower back behind his ear and pocketed the note. Arthur slowly closed the book, watching as dust scattered the air as he did, before placing it on the shelf again. He turned and entered the private examination room and walked out the back door to water his garden, bathed quite suddenly in sunlight. A light breeze tickled his hair, shifting the flower behind his ear. Arthur spared himself a smile. Perhaps, just this once, he could learn to love again, and pray that he would be loved in return.

---

Note that Alfred and Gilbert will be gone quite a long time. Teehee! Oh, and '_invastergait_' is '_investigate_'.


	13. The Terribly Sneaky Sheriff

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Thirteen: The Terribly Sneaky Sheriff

---

"Milk, beans, sugar, flour, baking soda. Milk, beans, sugar, flour, baking soda. Milk, beans, sugar, flour, baking soda," Arthur repeated at least a dozen times, squinting his eyes in concentration as he walked the one building-over into the General Store, which he normally avoided since his first day in Sandy Flats. As he scrambled up the steps and Feliciano opened his mouth to ask if he could help at all, the doctor said very quickly and very loudly, "Milk, beans, sugar, flour, baking soda!"

The Italian, on the verge of tears in fright, nodded, and skipped about, gathering the different items. "Ve~? I have to go to the back for the milk, I will be right back!" Feliciano said, smiling brightly and frolicking out the door behind the counter. Several minutes passed, and he came out again, milk-less and scowling. Arthur blinked and stared for a moment, before realising that it must be his more fussy twin.

The other Italian seemed to notice him as well, turning red with fury (what for?), and shouting on the top of his lungs. "_WELL?_ What are _you_ doing here? You're not shopping! Here, help me shelf these cans!" he roared with such ferocity that Arthur agreed, finding no plausible reason as to why he could refuse until Feliciano came back with the milk. Therefore, the doctor found himself grudgingly following the grumpy boy and his box of cans over to a gloomy shelf.

"So. This is how it goes. You see the ones with the green labels, tea-bastard? You put those on this shelf. With the other green labels. And these orange ones, you see them? Yea, those!" he growled as Arthur held up one of the cans, taped over with a label made of a disturbing shade of orange. "You put those with the other orange ones. They're up at the top shelf, watch out, I'm not going to fix you up if you get chopped by the fan." The doctor felt _so_ comforted by this notion.

He picked up a red can, and, assuming that it went with the other red cans, made to put it on the shelf next to them, but was quickly cut off by a sharp squack and a slap. "No you bastard! Can't you tell that those are _maroon_, and that you're putting them with the _burgundy_ cans? Next you'll be putting _vermilion _with _crimson_!" Romano fumed, snatching the can out of his hands and putting it on the adjacent shelf. It was then that Arthur noticed an entire shelving unit, from ceiling to wall, with vaguely different shades of red.

The Brit raised an eyebrow, and plucked a green can out of the trolley, looking around for any _pthalo_ or _viridian_ cans that he might have to keep an eye out for, but was relieved when he saw there was only one colour green. He was about to reach for an orange can when he heard a happy whistle, both of the men looking up at the door to the General Store, one curious, the other furious.

"Mr. Carriedo, how are you? Any headaches since you've been resting?" Arthur asked politely, standing up and brushing himself off. The Spaniard smiled at him, looking a little absent.

"Oh, I've been feeling _grand_, Francis has been taking good care of me! But – have you seen little Lovi around anywhere? I think he likes for you to call him Romano?" he asked, peeping into a large metal basin and sifting around the seeds inside to see if he was hiding in there. "He's always running away from me, you see, I'm sure he's in here somewhere!" he gossiped as he checked under some nearby shelves. Arthur snorted, looking down at his feet where 'Lovey' (for he did not know the history of the name, and could only assume it was an endearing term) was cringing, hiding from view and making desperate attempts for Arthur not to rat him out.

"No, I'm afraid I haven't seen the bloke. What're you looking for him for? Does he owe you money?" Arthur asked, leaning against the shelves of red cans. Antonio blinked and smiled even wider.

"Oh, no, silly doctor! Lovi is simply the cutest little thing I've ever seen, isn't he? And I'd really love to spend more time with him, you see, but he's always hiding or pretending that he's Feliciano~!"

There was a long silence in which Arthur decided that he would avoid the sheriff and go back to canning to distract himself. However, the Brit confessed to being amused by how Romano was shaking so terribly, when the Spaniard finally said something. "Oh well, I suppose I will come find him later, haha!" he chirped, walking lazily out of the store.

Romano gave a giant groan on the floor next to Arthur, melting against the shelves. "That _bastard_ is always hunting me down! I swear, he's such a fucking creeper, I wish he would leave me alone. I don't want anything to do with him!" he ranted, but Arthur noted the familiar pinkness in his cheeks that came not from anger, but being flustered. He smirked and placed another green can on the proper shelf. The Brit was about to start his investigation of the interesting relationship when Feliciano came bouncing out from behind the counter, holding a large glass container of milk.

"Here you go, Dr. Kirkland~!" he said, dancing over to them and handing Arthur the milk before giving Romano a giant wave that nearly hit the Brit. Sighing, he stood up and walked over to the cash register, having to dust himself off yet again. Finally, he paid for his milk, beans, sugar, flour, baking soda, and left the General Store.

---

I'm a decent artist, what do you guys say to a little art to accompany these pieces? I'll only do them if enough people say that they'd like them.


	14. A Snowy Teacup

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Fourteen: A Snowy Teacup

---

"Are you sure? You don't need to help, really, it's just a little weeding," Arthur insisted, opening the gate to the garden and kneeling next to his rows of plants, wearing the straw hat again. Matthew laughed and put on his own hat, which looked like a seagull perched on his head, as it had been painted white, and disagreed.

"It's quite all right, I'm already decked out and ready to go. Besides, I was the one to plague you with the garden by giving you the seeds, shouldn't I help you complete it?" he asked, sending the other a sincere smile.

Arthur leaned over and gave him a forceful shove. "You didn't _plague_ me with anything. It was a gift, so stop acting like an ass. If you'd like to help me, you can start on that side. I'll work over here and we'll meet in the middle."

The blonde nodded and bent over, donning his gloves to begin weeding. They sat in silence, under the stifling sun and breaking out in a light sweat for some time, silent, before Arthur decided to speak up and encourage the timid blonde in conversation. "Matthew?"

"Hm?" He did not look up from the particularly vicious weed, despite the fact that the doctor had stopped weeding to look at him.

"Where are you and Alfred from?' he asked. Matthew then latched onto the weed and leaned back, falling on his back and bringing the entire root system of the weed out with him. The two chuckled while Matthew dusted off his seagull-like hat and tried to right his messy hair (which only added to the seagull affect since it now resembled a scrappy nest) before responding.

"We grew up on a cattle farm farther north, where there's actually grass. Rolling hills, and a lot of them too. It went on forever. Every summer we'd let the cattle roam and then have to go hunt them out by their branding amongst the herds of other's ranger's cattle as well." He looked wistful, tilting his hat back and watching the few clouds drift by on the sky, letting a pause breeze by before continuing. "We were in our prime. Real cowboys, out in the wild, chasing down our herd and scrounging for breakfast every morning, waking up at dawn and collapsing into our beds at sunset after a long meal. God, it was the life." Matthew's eyes sparkled as the sun came out from behind a cloud. "I want to return there some day, but probably go farther north. Our father was from Canada, you see, one of the first cowboys out in that area. Our mother was a real Southern girl, from somewhere nearby here. Bit of a city lady, though, and they settled for something in between." Arthur knew that Matthew was in a different world now, hardly aware of the Brit's presence as he reminisced. He needed no prompting. "When Dad died, Alfred and I could no longer manage the herds by ourselves. We sold off the cattle, able find enough money to make the move to live with our mother's father and her in the city. I believe you probably took the train into there when you came in to Sandy Flats," he said, finally shooting Arthur a glance. "The two of us have always been the closest of friends, needing no one else but ourselves. That was before – well, Alfred made a good friend there. He told us that he was moving to Sandy Flats, that it was gonna get big one day, and we'd be mayors or preachers or something in a big city. He's – Well, I suppose you can say he's gone now."

Matthew finished his story, leaving Arthur a tiny bit confused, but not pressing for more on this _friend_. "You want to go all the way north to Canada? But don't they get terrible snows up there?"

The blonde laughed, tossing another weed into their pile. "I suppose, but I hate all the dryness here. Knowing me, though, I wouldn't go anywhere without Alfred. He'd hate the snow and the city. He's the real cowboy, always out on his horse, camping out and loving every moment of it. But, well, I always wanted to pursue an education, to be someone important like a professor, a doctor, a townsman in general. Own an automobile and drive about. I had the chance to when we lived in the city, but I chose family over dreams. I think I made the right decision." Arthur felt a pang of guilt, knowing that the younger version of Matthew sounded a lot like the younger version of himself. Except, he had chosen dreams. Now, his family lie thousands of kilometres away, over the ocean, in a whole different world. He vaguely wondered if Peter missed him, if he had missed him at all during those summers he had spent with friends during University.

"What about you?" Matthew asked. Arthur snorted.

"You know my story. I attended Oxford, and spent most of my summers in London, but my family owned a manor in the country. I got a job offer in New York, but then was redirected out here. And, well, here I am."

"Do you like it in our strange little town?" he asked, prodding Arthur's arm with his little garden shovel.

The Brit scowled and rubbed his arm, tossing dirt at the other, who laughed it off. "It's bearable, but not enough of you can appreciate good tea," he said simply.

Matthew snorted. "That's Alfred for you." Arthur hoped the other didn't notice how quickly his head snapped up in attention. "Coffee, coffee, coffee, nice and black and sludgey."

"But he has that lovely tea set in the cabinet! Better than Elizaveta's, even, and I'm sure she uses it more often!"

Matthew paused, and smirked. "Oh, you noticed that, did you, when you two had _slept_ together?"

The doctor gave him an angry look and began to chuck the weeds from the pile at him, howling in rage.

"Okay, okay! That was pushing it. But that was our mother's, we inherited it when we died. I was going to take it, but then Francis would want to sell it or use it, and I couldn't let him do that. Alfred takes good care of it, I trust him," Matthew said simply, shaking his head and watching weeds fly off.

Arthur gave a grunt, obviously having different ideas of taking care of a gorgeous tea set. He looked up to see Matthew making a kissy face.

"I'm sure he would love to have a _tea party_ with you!" Arthur growled at him and acted as if he didn't hear it.

"Naturally, just like Gilbert would love to get pissed with you."

Matthew raised an eyebrow in question before Arthur sighed, explaining himself. "So he could get you wasted enough to drop your trousers and shag you!"

---

Derpy derp derp derp. We had a power outage. Derp.

Gosh, I have 35 chapters left in this fic, but I've written quite a few already out of order, and now I only have 15 more to write. ;n; It's going by so quickly!


	15. A Gross Encounter with Shrubs

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Fifteen: A Gross Encounter with Shrubs

---

"It's your turn to stay up and keep the fire going! I did it last night!" Gilbert huffed. Alfred nodded slowly, letting out a long sigh.

"Okay, okay, but ya need to at least keep me ent'rtained."

The gorge was tall, with layers upon layers of rocky ledges that seemed to tower above them like redwood trees. Gilbert and Alfred walked on the canyon floor, following a little creek that led them deeper into the maze. They sat, side by side, near a fire. The creek babbled lazily to their right, shadows of two cowboys flickering over the gorge's walls. The moon could not be seen; the canyon obstructed much of the sky and all of the shrubs looked like vicious ghouls.

The blonde yawned; he certainly didn't want to spend all night staying up to tend to the fire, but he _had_ slept last night, and someone needed to keep an eye out for those Russians. The two were deep in the gorge now, having found and followed the creek for over a fortnight. Lord knew when they would find the bandit's camp, and if they would find it before the bandits found them. They were in dangerous territory; Braginski could be watching them from the ledges at that very moment, ready to pounce. Alfred shivered, leaning backward on the ground and nearly falling into a plant, causing Gilbert to laugh and point.

"Oh, that proves it! I'm far more awesome than you!" Alfred glared at him.

"That's not true, ya nearly fell off ya horse yesterday an' I didn't say nuthin!" Gilbert stopped laughing immediately.

"You saw that?"

Alfred did not respond. He had turned to see what plant he had almost crushed, and was now entranced. He plucked off one of the flowers. It had white petals and a yellow centre, not too gaudy, quite the ordinary wildflower. It reminded him terribly of Arthur. What if his note had been too forward? Usually, Alfred was a cocky bastard, he could admit that, but there was something about Arthur that made him uneasy. Not in the way Ivan Braginski did, though. Arthur made his stomach do flips and his heart beat fast. Gilbert finally took notice of Alfred's silence, giving him a knowing smile.

"So who caught the interest of Alfred Jones?"

Alfred looked up and stuttered in surprise. "_What_? No one, I don't know whachya talkin' about," he said, looking away and turning a light pink.

Gilbert scoffed and raised an eyebrow. "Like hell you don't! C'mon, tell me! I want to know!"

Alfred sighed. "Okay, Jesus. His name is Arthur."

"Arthur? I'm sure I haven't met him!"

"Yes you have- he was standing next t' mah brother the day ya got back."

"Not the fussy-looking bloke with the big eyebrows!"

"That's th' one."

Gilbert broke out into laughs. Alfred chuckled nervously. "Oh, but he seems like such a stick in the mud! Surely there is someone more _interesting _than _him_."

Alfred growled. "Says the man crushin' after Roderich, of all people." Gilbert's laughter ceased, and he gave Alfred a very serious look.

"I'm not crushing after Roddy."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Yes ya are."

"No I'm not!" Alfred made to disagree with him again, but was cut off by the albino. "Sure- I've slept with him, but Roddy's nothing more than a fun toy to get Eliza all worked up with. She's violent, but that's half the fun!" At Alfred's incredulous expression, he paused, losing the cocky grin. "Okay, I know it doesn't seem like the truth, but I just – I've loved – if that's what you want to call it – this one person for the _longest_ time, but I'm not very good when it comes to real feelings. It would all come out wrong and they would hate me. I'm sure! You have to understand, Alfred…. I know that if I screw up and break their heart, I'll never forgive myself, but if I don't associate myself with them, then I can never hurt them."

Alfred stewed over this for a moment. "That hardly seems like a good way t' pursue happiness, Gilbert."

Gilbert shrugged. "I'm not seeking my own happiness here, though. I know that most people don't think that I have feelings, and if I do, that they're solely for Roderich, but, really… I'm just shy about it. I don't know how to tell them that I care about them and… It's just all a big mess."

"Well _I_ know somebuddy who has got a right big crush on ya, they won't damn shut up 'bout ya, didn't until ya came back."

Gilbert laughed. "Tell me who!" Alfred shook his head. "That's not fair, you ass! Now you _have_ to tell me!" the blonde shook his head again.

They teased one another for some time, leaving the topic of Gilbert's feelings behind as the albino pressed for more information about Arthur.

"I hereby make it my GOAL in life to cockblock the both of you!"

"You _bastard!_"

There was a dark chuckling, high above them where they couldn't hear. Scarf whipping in the wind, Ivan Braginski crouched, hiding between two shrubs of cliffrose, watching the fire flicker. He grinned, teeth a pearly white, intentions harmful. "Arthur Kirkland, doctor, hmmmn? Well, well, Mr. Jones, I have a promise that I made to you, and I think I'll carry it through. Do you remember, Mr. Jones? Do you remember what I promised you? You are foolish, to carry your heart so openly in my canyon."

"What is your plan, aru?"

Braginski turned to the other man crouching in the shrubs. "Why, to find Arthur Kirkland, doctor, and to meet him _personally_. I believe that it is time that our newcomer meets the most feared man in the West."

---

OHSHI-

I've actually already written the part where they meet. Teehee.

Written: December 13, 2009


	16. Thick Weeds and Wild Men

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Sixteen: Thick Weeds and Wild Men.

---

Arthur knew that story-telling simply wouldn't be the same without Alfred, and he supposed that since everyone made such a ruckus about it last time, that Gilbert not being there would also add to the dreary event. However, he was dragged by Matthew to the lonesome story-circle anyway. This time, Roderich was there, looking entirely unwilling, with dark circles under his eyes. Elizaveta clung to his side, glaring at him every time he moved, in case the stuffy man might run away.

To their left, on a very large log, sat Antonio, Romano, Feliciano, and Ludwig, in that order. Antonio was hugging Romano, giving him a large, wet kiss on his cheek, to which Romano was responding with the most disgusted look anyone could possibly wear, and trying to swat the older man off of him. Feliciano, in turn, tugged on Ludwig's arm, attracting his attention to the situation and insisting that the blonde do the same. The stoic man turned a brilliant red and scooted a little farther away. Feliciano followed and threw his arms around Ludwig, nuzzling his arm. The German simply acted as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, which was partially true.

Matthew and Arthur sat on separate stumps on the other side of the fire, watching the going-ons with a passive amusement. The bushes behind them tickled their backs, and they scooted the log-stumps forward, closer to the fire.

"Well!" shouted Elizaveta, adjusting the flower that was tucked behind her ear. "I think we should get along or we'll be here all night, and get nothing done. Who has _not_ told a story yet?" she asked. No one raised their hand, except Matthew, who had grabbed onto Arthur's wrist and lifted it into the air. The Brit turned pink and yanked it back down, but all too late. "Arthur? Oh, grand, you can go first!" she said, pointing at him before looking smug and settling back onto the log. Roderich looked as if he might fall over and die.

Matthew grinned at Arthur and stared at him expectantly. His mouth went dry, mind blank except for the crackling of the fire. "Erm…" he wandered off, blinking at everyone staring at him. "Well, I knew one about a woman with a wild man once," he said before Feliciano interrupted him.

"A wild man? You knew a wild man? Ve~? As in someone who lives in the wild? Did he eat pasta?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head. "No, he did not eat pasta, and I did not know him personally. His name was Tarzan, and he came from my home country, England, when he was only a babe. His parents were on a ship to the New World at the time, but it caught fire in a terrible storm," he said dramatically, standing up and waving his arms over the fire, even Roderich's impassive attention caught. "Flames licked the sky, the ship tossed and turned in the dark, churning waters!" he roared, making loud sound affects and swinging his arms about in entertaining gestures. "Thankfully, his mother and father and the babe, unnamed at the time, were able to take a dinghy to the shore. They clambered onto the beach, the dingy a wreck by the wild waters by the time that they had reached land. Above them, they saw, amidst the wild storm, a tree large enough to hold a family of baboons in its branches! They waited for the storm to pass to begin their project."

Feliciano piped up with, "What was their project?"

Immediately, the group hushed him. "_Shhh!_"

Arthur chuckled, and turned to see Matthew, completely enraptured, looking at him with large violet eyes. Behind him, the bushes trembled. The night air was breezeless, and Arthur squinted, but he could see no one, and everybody was waiting for the rest of the story. "They built a house in the tree, with many floors and pulleys and levers and all sorts of interesting rooms and niches. But little did they know the predators of the African jungle," he whispered in a dangerous hush, leaning over the sparking fire to create an eerie shadow, arms out like a pouncing animal. Feliciano was now holding Ludwig in a death grip, and Romano looked positively terrified, not complaining any more about Antonio holding onto him. "Little did they know of the leopard in the jungle!"

Everyone gasped, and Arthur chuckled. "Hmm, I'm getting sleepy, what about you all?" he asked, and they roared in rage, commanding that he finish the story. But Arthur wanted to get inside; the bushes behind Matthew continued to tremble, shifting oddly. He didn't want to stand there any longer, not when danger was so easy to find at night in Sandy Flats. "I think that we should all go home now." He said seriously, adding a smile on a minute too late. Too many people understood what he meant. Little did they know the dangers of the dusty plain.

Arthur locked his doors and windows, looking out over his garden and the desert flats beyond from his kitchen window. What had been hiding in the bushes? It was worth missing the end of his story to get away from the possible danger, he was sure, but there was only a wooden door and several panels of glass that kept him from Braginski and his gang, and Arthur could only pray that Alfred was safe in the canyon, with nothing but his gun and lasso to protect him from the Russian's vengeance.

---

Ohoohohh.

Oh, and here are some scanned images on parchment (don't ask), of Belarus, Hungary, Ukraine, and then America and England. Not full bodies, just heads.

http _COLON_ //i45 _DOT_ tinypic _DOT_ com/x2pfkl _DOT_ jpg

http _COLON_ //i46 _DOT_ tinypic _DOT_ com/mvta8z _DOT_ jpg

And yes, my England is a sexy manly beast. P:


	17. A Pleasant DropIn for Tea

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Seventeen: A Pleasant Drop-In for Tea

---

"Oh, Arthur, you simply _have_ to come, you're locking yourself up in this dusty old house day after day after day and I _worry_ about you. Besides, it's about time you came over for tea; there aren't nearly enough fanatics and one can only convinced a married man to have so many tea parties," Elizaveta insisted as Arthur put on his coat.

"I already said that I'll come over, but I would truly appreciate a little more time in advance to make myself look nice and proper for the occasion. The lady had knocked on his door at nearly sunrise, commanding that he 'come downstairs and let her in this instant or she'd make him into biscuits'. Once he had done so, she insisted that he grab a coat and come over immediately for tea. He asked her if she could wait until tea time in the afternoon, but said that Roddy would be leaving for business in the city during the afternoon, and wouldn't be back for a week, and they needed to have the entire group there because Roddy and Arthur were both gentlemen so surely they would get along smashingly and she heard none of the Englishman's protests so he naturally had to agree.

She tilted her hat as they walked across the street, hearing Romano's loud snoring from the General Store adjacent to Arthur's house. He faintly wondered how anyone in _that _household could sleep at night if it kept Arthur up at times in the building next door.

When they arrived, 'Roddy' was already sitting down in a poignant wooden chair with a flower-print cushion sewed on, although it looked like it was contributing little to the comfort of the chair, or perhaps Roderich always looked as if his spine was made of metal. Elizaveta sat the doctor down at one of the two remaining chairs, babbling incessantly. "You and Roddy talk for a little while, I'll go make the tea. Oh, tell him what you're doing in town today, Roddy, do tell him!" she chirped, bustling off to go make tea in her finest set, Arthur noticed, seeing as it was absent from the cabinet he had seen it in during the formal dinner party. He scoffed; a fine tea set should only be used for Holidays, and only at the fanciest of Holiday parties at that. Frivolous woman.

Silence ensued, until Roderich finally said, "I will be purchasing a piano."

Arthur smiled forcefully. "Do you fancy music?"

"I do, Chopin in particular."

"I've heard a few of his works, beautiful."

"Mmm."

Arthur now realised, that, after spending so much time with country folk, how stiff gentlemen were. How could he have enjoyed all of that time he spent in England with gentlemen, skipping time with his family to go to formal parties, learning proper etiquette and acting as if he had one of Romano's burgundy cans shoved up his arse the entire time? What youth he had wasted on formalities! Still, surely he could be a gentleman again for a good half hour, for the nature of his reputation and politeness toward Elizaveta, who had been hardly polite at all in inviting him to this little morning tea-time.

She eventually returned, finding crackling silence and sighing in disappointment before pouring them all a cup of weak, sweet tea. Arthur resisted the urge to curl his lip in disgust; it was improper etiquette to sweeten the tea in the pot, and she had forgotten a teaspoon of leaves for the teapot itself, it was weak tea, oversweetened, and there wasn't any milk to be had. Did these Western fools know how to brew tea?

Obviously not. Elizaveta added at least two more spoonfuls of sugar, and Roderich tentatively sipped it. Arthur decided to try and drink it as quickly as possible to get it out of the way, taking large gulps and hiding them as dainty sips. Unfortunately, however, the pot was incredibly large, and Elizaveta insisted upon pouring more for him after every time the Englishman emptied his cup of the foul substance. "Do you know when Alfred and Gilbert will be returning?"

Apparently, this was the entirely wrong thing to say. Roderich suddenly looked quite pale and Elizaveta turned bright red, appearing as though she might hurt something on the spot. The doctor shrank into his stiff little chair. "I do not know. I hope that they find that horrible man who stole my silver, and then they go off to the city and turn him in," she said, talking nothing of their return. Roderich gave her a flat stare, to which she returned with a shaky smile. Arthur sat there, awkwardly, downing the rest of his third cup of watery tea.

The rest of the tea party remained in tense silence, the peace perturbed by the question Arthur had asked. Curious but cautious, he decided not to probe further into the area, knowing that, in time, it would be explained to him in full. Perhaps he would ask Matthew – oh, no, he wouldn't get a straight answer out of Matthew when it came to Gilbert. Perhaps he would ask Antonio, since Ludwig was Gilbert's brother, and that left only the absent-minded sheriff out of people in the town whose heads were on semi-properly.

Elizaveta gave him a nice little curtsy when he left, and he shrugged on his coat, noticing that Roderich didn't bother to see him to the door. Hopefully, he would not be forced into any more 'tea parties' with Elizaveta and her stoic, dull husband.

---

Let me repeat; there are no filler chapters in this fic. _Every chapter is important_, so don't go thinking that this isn't important. I'll have the artwork for my last update today. I only have to write one more chapter, since I have three in a row written after that.


	18. Seven Brilliant Shades of Red

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Eighteen: Seven Brilliant Shades of Red

---

Weeks. Weeks had gone by since Arthur had last seen or heard from Alfred (and Gilbert, he supposed), and he couldn't help but wonder how long would it take to announce them dead if they had been – years? Months? How long did these scouting missions usually last? Surely it wasn't safe for them, down in that gorge, where that Russian gang could pounce at any moment. It would be two against one, but Braginski sounded like a large, intimidating sort of fellow. He sincerely hoped they would be all right, come out okay. Arthur turned a little pink at the memory of the note, which was on his night table. He had pressed the cliffrose in his copy of Desert Flora and Fauna, and stacked it under a series of medical books for several days until it was dried and pretty, looking like a sample out of a memory booklet. He turned a little pinker, and hoped that everyone would simply assume it was sunburn.

Arthur considered putting on his coat for the second time that day, but he knew that it would be blistering hot by this time in the afternoon, and decided against it. He strolled out, careful to lock the door behind himself – _Those bandits could come out in broad daylight!_ Ludwig had warned him, once – and walked tenderly across the street and up along the rows of houses and stores to the Sheriff's office. The first building he had been in when he arrived at Sandy Flats, and yet he hadn't been back there since. However, today, there seemed to be a terrible ruckus.

He stepped inside, immediately turning bright red when he saw what was happening. Romano, an even brighter and bolder red than Arthur, was squirming on the sheriff's desk, while Antonio gleefully attempted to remove his shirt. The doctor stammered, feeling his face grow hotter in embarrassment, and Romano looked up to see him, giving off an indignant squawk.

"G-Get out, tea bastard!" he squealed, trying to pull his shirt back down, although Antonio seemed determined to get it off despite the fact that the red-faced Brit was now standing in the doorway, looking quite shocked out of his mind. "I – I don't want him to d-do this, d-don't you get the wr-wrong idea, you – you eyebrow bastard!" Arthur could only open and close his mouth like a fish, looking quite silly and quite unable to move.

Antonio gave Romano a pouty look. "Oh, _amor_, don't mind Arthur, he was just leaving~!" he said happily, pressing a wet kiss to the Italian boy's face and managing finally to get the shirt off of him.

Arthur nodded to himself, spun on his heels and made to leave immediately, hearing as he walked back into the sunny street the last bits of their conversation.

"Awww, Lovi, you're so _cute_!"

"_DON'T CALL ME THAT, TOMATO BASTARD!_"

Arthur stared blankly, walking awkwardly back to his house and fumbling for the keys. Ludwig watched him as he swept the General Store porch off, calling out when the doctor dropped his keys. "Don't go in there on Tuesdays," he informed him casually before going back to his methodical sweeping. Arthur growled something about 'that would have been helpful earlier', and stumbled into his house, embarrassed beyond all measure.

Certainly, Romano was a fussy person, he didn't think that even _he_ matched the level of impossibility that the Italian had reached, and now that it was quite obvious that they were lovers (and surely Ludwig, who had such a rigid sense of morality would not allow it if it were not consensual), he could not understand why Romano was so intent on making everyone believe that he had no interest in the Spaniard. Sure, he was missing a few loose bolts, but almost all of the citizens of Sandy Flats were a tiny bit loopy, Arthur had come to realise. Romano, he supposed, was loopy in his own way, and simply had no ruddy idea how to show your feelings to someone except by pulling their pigtails and slapping them and yelling at them. If the Sheriff were not such an empty-headed man (although he appeared to have brains when they were needed), he would have noticed by now that Romano either didn't like him at all, or simply needed an attitude adjustment and some lessons in flirting.

Arthur snorted, and went up the stairs to make himself a cup of tea. It was not his duty as doctor of the town to repair broken hearts or relationships, that was for sure, although he did need to have a very serious conversation with Matthew about that Gilbert fellow, and hopefully before he returned, too. There was no way on heaven or earth that that man would treat Matthew correctly.

_How ironic, _he noted, _how hardly anyone in this town can show their feelings as they would like._ Elizaveta, who truly cared for Roderich, showed him her love by protecting him from the bastard Gilbert. And Roderich, who he could only assume love Elizaveta back, since he married her, did as she said and accompanied her on all of her silly lady adventures. Still, she did rule with an iron fist. He supposed she was more of the man in the marriage. Matthew, who was shy in Gilbert's presence, Romano, who was angry in Antonio's, Ludwig, who was stoic in Feliciano's… Arthur snorted, and wondered idly if he himself came off as the same sort of oddball who had no idea how to portray their feelings. He blushed.

---

Please review, loves, they make my day. The next three chapters I have already written. One will be posted with this one, the next in about 3 hours, the next 3 hours after that. CC: Approximately, naturally.

Note: I think I might actually finish this fic. I might. Actually. Finish. It.

And that will mean, naturally, that I go on to make it into a comic, probably, since I love following fics up with art, when I _do_ finish them.


	19. When Warnings Are Left Forgotten

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Nineteen: When Warnings Are Left Forgotten

---

Sunset was not far off. Pity, really, that Arthur could not stand out on the flats and watch it, just one night… Surely nothing could happen. Perhaps, even, Alfred would come home and he would be the first to seen him again! Even that Gilbert fellow would come home and he could hit him over the head with something hard for treating Matthew you badly. He had already descended the stairs when his thoughts returned to the warning Matthew had given him.

_And by all means, stay away from that gorge!_

Oh, but it _was_ only one night, and not even for a long while. It wasn't as if he was going anywhere near the gorge anyway. He just wanted to see the sun setting, he would be back in his house by nightfall. Surely no Russian bandits would pop out of the earth while he was watching, right? He unlocked the back door through the private examination room, noticing a cupboard he had not seen before due to the way it was hiding behind the bed. The doctor made a mental note to clean it out tomorrow, and remove any traces of the house's former owned. For now, he was running out of time until sunset, which was truly the most spectacular part of the West. The Brit walked out, closing his door behind him and taking a full breath of dry desert air The lights, all oranges and yellows and pinks and golds, waltzed and tangoed through the air, swapping partners for the square dance and the tarantellegra in a ballet of colour. Arthur sighed in content; for all the misgivings about Sandy Flats, its sunsets were some of the finest the Englishman had ever seen.

Suddenly, he heard a noise to his right, heart skipping several beats. Arthur turned, ready to reprimand Matthew for sneaking up on him or Francis for being a pervert. But it was neither Francis, nor Matthew. It was not even Alfred Jones.

The man was very tall, with a broad chin and wide shoulders and a nose crooked enough to have been broken several times. Around his neck, he wore a light khaki scarf, only a shade lighter than the floor-length coat. But despite his intimidating stature, the most frightening part of the man were his cheery but dangerous violet eyes, the way they twinkled and smiled at Arthur, winking in the golden sunlight. And his smile, crazed and childish upon his face, looked odd on a man his size. He brought a woman with him, but she was hidden in shadows, and Arthur could hardly make out her form. The Brit was sure he had never seen this man before in his life, but as soon as he spoke, he knew that he had heard him, and he knew where.

"Arthur Kirkland, doctor, are you not?" he asked, still smiling with that pleasant grin, but began to lumber forward with surprising grace. "I have been looking for you, my friend. It has been spoken that we would meet, but I was having much disappointment in the time that I was made to wait before I could see your face," he added, not waiting for a response. Arthur backed up a step. "Oh, no, don't go running away. You see, I have many things that I can tell you, and you have many things you can give to me."

The doctor took another step back, suddenly pressed against his garden fence, unsure of whether to run or cooperate, for there was surely no fighting this man. "There is nothing I have that you want," he said simply, glaring up at him with as much a fearsome scowl as he could procure due to the circumstances.

The Russian laughed. "Do you know my name, Arthur Kirkland, doctor?"

The woman behind him snorted, and he told her, "Hush, sister."

They watched him, two pairs of cruel violet eyes. "You are Ivan Braginski."

The taller man gave a delighted chuckle and clapped his hands. "I am! I am! They inform you well, I gather." Arthur gave him a disgusted look, trying to break off the sharp tip of one of the garden fence's metal spikes behind his back. They were rusty and old… If he could just grab one and cut the man, he would be able to get inside, or make enough ruckus for Ludwig to see…

But the woman gave an inhuman shriek, which Braginski somehow understood, and, quite suddenly, Arthur found his wrists in the Russian's hand, held firmly by one of the gigantic, bear-like paws. They were cold. Braginski smiled, teeth glittering in the waning sunlight. "It is rude to try and harm your guest, is it not, Arthur Kirkland, doctor?"

He remained silent, glaring up at the Russian with vicious eyes. While Arthur was no warrior, he was not a damsel in distress, and refused to be taken by the crazed bandit. But Braginski was not satisfied with this response. He leaned forward, whispering into the other's ear as he easily broke the tip off of one of the garden's rusty fence spikes.

"And we do not wish to be _rude_, Arthur Kirkland, doctor," he murmered, breath icy against the Brit's ear. He wondered if this man was born from stone, or perhaps was a ghost, the way he was cold all over, except for those vibrant eyes.

"There is nothing I have that you want," he repeated more firmly, turning to glare at the Russian, who laughed whole-heartedly, as if he had told a wonderful dinner joke.

There was a sudden sharpness to the small of Arthur's back, a sharp, slippery metal that slid against his skin, sneaking up his spine. He gasped as the tip pressed to his skin painfully, with more force than necessary. The Englishman looked away from the violet eyes, cheery and delighted as ever, perhaps even more so. He squirmed, teeth bared in something between a gasp and a growl.

"Arthur Kirkland, doctor, does appreciate a certain flower, da?" he asked, innocent smile still plastered onto his face as he elicited another gasp from the smaller man, nearly breaking the skin with the rusty metal. Arthur gave him a furious look, to which the Russian responded. "It is a _plain_ flower, nothing beautiful, for Arthur Kirkland, doctor, is very plain. He is not a wild rose nor a blooming glory of the flora world, he is plain. He is quite… average. But rugged and true, Arthur Kirkland, doctor, does not bow before me like a weak man. He feels the pain that loyalty and determination bring, and he will bow a strong man. A broken man."

Arthur gave an outraged howl of pain and fury as the metal tip finally broke the skin, his eyes closing in a wince. The Russian paused, letting the warmth of his own blood fall down his spine, making the other bite back tears. "For Arthur Kirkland, doctor, is _mine _now, to pet and play with. He is my little _cliffrose_."

Braginski dug the arrowhead in further, giving Arthur no time to respond, but letting the words seep in deeper, as the metal did. "He will find it as humorous as I when Mr. Jones returns to home, and finds a bouquet of lovely _cliffroses_," he accentuated the word with a change in direction from the metal tip. "on his doorstep, bloodied and broken, as his lovely Arthur Kirkland," he leaned again, pulling the metal tip out and smearing the blood from the wound up, leaving a painted mark along the doctor's spine, "doctor," he pulled even closer, dropping the bloody metal tip into the garden, cold breath ghosting over Arthur's ear," has been."

The childish smile was now dark, dangerous, and cold. "For Arthur Kirkland, doctor, is _mine_."

Arthur, unable to hold back tears, choked a sob, pain still throbbing through his veins, words ringing in his ears. Braginski laughed, and his sister did as well. No one expected, however, the gunshot to their left, and the sound of thundering hooves.

---

Hope that was a good confrontation for all of you who were waiting for it.


	20. A Near Kiss

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Twenty: A Near Kiss

---

The violet-eyed Russian turned, his smile sour. The bullet did not touch him, but Arthur still tried frantically to keep his heartbeat under control, wishing that the scarved bandit would leave. He turned, following Braginski's eyes to see who had shot at them. The doctor could have sworn that his pulse stopped. The blood was beginning to cake on his back.

Alfred F. Jones stood there, both hands on the trigger, the darkest look on his face that Arthur had ever seen. Braginski laughed, a cold, cruel laugh, and turned away from the Englishman to face his enemy.

"It'd be in ya'lls best int'rest to back away from Arthur, or ya'll regret it, ya hear?" Alfred growled, voice deep, eyes cold. Gilbert stood beside him, his own gun cocked. Braginski's sister glared back at them, still hidden in shadow.

"It seems that we have a problem, da? For you see, I do not wish to give up my little pet. He is so cute and easy to frighten. I wish to keep him – what is the term? – for myself!" he chirped, teeth showing in a predatory smile. Arthur, still trying to stabilise his breathing, could swear he heard voices coming from the side of his house, and turned away from the tense scene to peer beyond his garden.

There, crouched low, was Antonio and Ludwig, two sets of handcuffs between them. Antonio smiled softly at him and raised a finger to his lips. Arthur gave a curt nod and looked away, realising that Alfred and Braginski were still bickering.

All at once, it happened. Ludwig pounced on Braginski's sister, manhandling her into the handcuffs before she could pull out a single knife, but Antonio was having a bit more difficulty. Knocked to the side by the Russian's strong arm, he fell a few feet away, unconscious. Braginski tipped his hat and mounted his horse, spurring her. Alfred shot immediately, barely missing the horse's thigh from the long distance he was at. Braginski spurred the horse faster; he rode past Gilbert and Alfred, Gilbert shooting after him.

Gilbert leapt on his own mare, chasing after the villain. Ludwig struggled to keep Braginski's sister down, Arthur still standing still in shock.

It all happened so fast. One moment, he was pinned by the Russian's violet eyes, the next, Alfred was shaking him, trying to elicit a response from Arthur's still body. The doctor made a muffled noise of fright, mouth hanging open. Alfred was standing terribly close, hands grasping his shoulders, those strong, callused hands, his eyes wide and worried behind square glasses. The cowboy's blonde hair, wilder than usual, stuck out from under his lopsided hat at places, and a few strands came down to tickle Arthur's face.

"Oh – _Alfred!_" he shouted, throwing his arms around the blonde's neck and pulling him close for a hug, dirt and dust covering the doctor's face as he nuzzled into Alfred's chest. The taller man laughed heartily, pulling him back from the shoulders and smiling sweetly. Arthur barely noticed Gilbert returning and tossing Antonio over his shoulder, or Ludwig finally knocking Braginski's sister out; he was too intoxicated by Alfred's closeness, by that smell of leather and motor oil that he had missed so dearly.

His cheeks turned red as he realised they were both leaning towards one another, faces pulling closer. His eyelids began to close, seeing Alfred's doing so as well, reaching out with his lips to finally be able to kiss the idiot.

"_OI! _YOU TWO! LET'S GO, BEFORE HE COMES BACK!" Gilbert shouted at them, causing them both to flicker out of their moment, pulling back awkwardly, untangling their arms. Arthur was sure his face had never been so crimson as he turned away, skin still tingling where Alfred's arms had held him, where his breath had ghosted over his face. He knew that the other was still standing behind him, but Gilbert's continued cries, probably out of worry for his close friend, spurred _him_ on, making him move his feet forward and follow the others. Alfred walked behind him.

They had no words to exchange; except for every one that they had missed during the long weeks that Alfred had been gone. Gilbert had already opened the front door to Arthur's quarters (why he didn't simply use the back one was beyond him) and tossed Antonio haphazardly onto the second patient's bed. Arthur bent over him, ignoring Gilbert's worried look as he sat on a nearby bed, checking for any broken bones, for any injuries. There were none.

The doctor sighed and turned to the albino man (he still didn't like him) and gave him a cold look, for more than just being an interrupting bastard. "He will wake up in a couple of hours, and should rest for some time, but will not suffer any lasting consequences. Mr. Carriedo will stay here until he has recovered enough to walk back to his home. He will not need my supervision at that point, and should resume work once he feels he is capable."

Gilbert let out a sigh of relief, and his worried expression softened. Apparently, this bastard really did care about his friend. Arthur turned to see Alfred walking in the door, taking off his hat and looking around curiously. He smiled awkwardly at Arthur, who coloured and smiled crookedly back, before turning back to Gilbert, who noticed none of this exchange.

"You are free to go; he's in safe hands, I assure you," Arthur said comfortingly, wanting the cowboy to get out of his house as soon as possible, hoping for some _alone_ time with Alfred. To … _catch up_. Gilbert nodded and stood, walking up to Alfred.

The blonde gave Arthur a warm smile, but was interrupted yet again by Gilbert grappling onto his arm. "C'mon, let's go to Francis and grab a round of drinks, on me! We need t'tell him about Antonio anyway." Alfred made a protesting noise but Gilbert would hear none of it, pulling him on. The blonde sighed.

"Come by the stables at noon tomorrah. I'll… show ya mah horse," he said, and Arthur nodded.

When they had left and Arthur had locked all of the doors and windows and checked up on Antonio one last time before walking up the stairs, Arthur swore that he would kill Gilbert for the life of him, but only after he was cleaned up; he could still feel the dried blood along his spine, and when he moved, the wound in the small of his back would drip blood.

---

Written December 13, 2009.

Tomorrah = tomorrow.

COCKBLOCKLOL.

Remember, there are THIRTY FIVE chapters in this. We're not at the end, yet!


	21. Companionship Unwanted

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Twenty One: Companionship Unwanted

---

"Right o'er here, she is. You've seen her before, but only in action, and I thoughtchya might like a change t' see her up close, y'know?" Alfred said warmly, pulling Arthur around the corner to another row of horses. Arthur was still a vibrant red, looking sheepishly down at their interlocked hands. Alfred's, just as warm and callused as he remembered, held his. Truly, Arthur couldn't care less about a silly mare, but after the almost-kiss yesterday, he was willing to kill for some time alone with the blond, certain that all of this meant that Alfred returned his feelings. There was no way Arthur could mistake what they had almost done for anything else in the world.

They lingered in front of the pinto's stall, still holding hands and avoiding one another's eyes. Arthur couldn't think of anything to say for the life of him. Should they confess their feelings? What if he was mistaken all of this time? What if Alfred didn't feel the same way, and that he had simply imagined all of those sweet moments that made him act so girlish and strange? Seconds passed slowly by. Arthur wanted to badly to cut the formalities and _kiss_ the damned bloke, but his pride would hear none of it.

"Alfred, I-"

"Arthur-"

They chuckled nervously, palms sweating, before insisting that the other talk first. Eventually, Arthur won and Alfred stood awkwardly, trying to think of something to say.

"I think I have an' idea that'll cover both our statements at once," he said formally. Arthur nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging manner, butterflies reaching a dangerous population.

Alfred chuckled quietly, his breathing suddenly distant, but his heartbeat so much louder. The doctor wondered if Alfred could hear his as well.

Suddenly, he was quite close. Where his eyes always that breath-taking blue? Curiously, Arthur wondered how many people had seen the blonde so close. Close enough to count those faint freckles that dotted his cheeks, or see the smudges on his glasses as he removed them. The Brit shuffled a little closer, trying to spur Alfred on, show him that he wanted this. That he should bloody kiss him already instead of staring like he's some exquisite piece of art.

Their breath began to mingle, eyelashes nearly close enough to brush. They were alone, close and pressed to one another. Arthur couldn't recall when Alfred's arm had wrapped around his waist, or when that warm hand had started holding his face. Their chests bumped against one another occasionally as they stood there, close, staring at one another a little awkwardly, a little lustfully. Arthur closed his eyes, leaning further into he embrace and pulling Alfred down. Their lips almost touched.

"Alfred! Alfred Jones!" A smooth, French voice commanded. Arthur growled, the ghost of the other's lips on his own.

"Don't answer him," he fussed.

Alfred chuckled, nearly purring his response, "Wasn't gonna."

But before they could finally engage in intimate lip-lock, Francis strolled around the corner, and the two sprang apart. Francis sniggered.

"I suppose both of you can help. Come on- I need you to talk some sense into Matthew." The pair grumbled, ready to scream with frustration, angry and feeling perfectly unwilling to help Francis with any sort of favours. "I've decided that I've had enough with his crushing after Gilbo and he won't listen to me, so I hunted down Alfred, but Arthur, you're good friends with him as well. Surely on of you can put an end to this ridiculous business." The pair grunted noncommitantly.

They rounded the corner, looking at a disgruntled Matthew. He shuffled, ready for a lashing. However, Arthur just gave an exasperated sigh while Alfred looked generally miffed. "He really is an ass, Matthew. You deserve someone better- someone who treats you properly," Arthur finally said, chucking diplomacy in the bin. Matthew gave a forced nod.

"Well, I know, but I can't exactly _stop_ caring about him," he protested. Francis snorted and there was a pregnant pause before Alfred spoke up.

"There are better people than Gilbert, Mattie. Ya'll find someone!" he said optimistically.

"Easy for you to say, eh?" he growled, shooting Arthur a venomous look. The Englishman, affronted, glared back.

"Come off it, you're being ridiculous. I don't see what you could even like about him, could were so about to list all of his flaws before!" he huffed, angry and offended, but he wasn't sure what for. Matthew's face was beyond guilty. He looked away. Francis had said nothing for a long time and Alfred was now observing a spot on the floor as if it might explode.

"I mean, I can't really explain what I find charming about him. He's brash and crude and obnoxious, I know – I mean – I can't …" he found himself talking in circles. "What do you find so attractive about my brother?"

Arthur turned maroon, Francis' attention had been piqued, and Alfred's stare had switched to the rafters, expression as if they might give way. "I – I don't know what you're talking about!" he finally managed to stammer.

"Oh, please, Arthur, I'm sure the whole town-"

"_I THINK ZAT CROISSANTS ARE MOST LOVELY, BUT I CONFESS TO LIKING CREPES MORE. WHAT DO YOU SAY, ALFRED?_" Francis jutted in, trying to keep the conversation from straying into even more dangerous waters.

Alfred stared at Francis, and there was another long pause before he finally said, "I don't know what gosh darn crepes are."

Francis then leapt into an intricate discussion with himself about French delicacies. Arthur examined his fingernails, pointedly ignoring Francis' gestures, which Alfred watched with unusual interest while Matthew entertained himself by trying to snap a particularly pliant piece of hay in two with his feet. Overall, the entire afternoon was ruined, for Arthur knew that there was simply no way he could do anything with Alfred after Matthew's comment.

---

LOLDOUBLECOCKBLOCK.

Written: December 13, 2009.


	22. The Woman and the Frying Pan

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Twenty Two: The Woman and the Frying Pan

---

"Arthur! Arthur, come out, you won't want to miss this! Ve~!" Feliciano said, rapping on the door loudly. Arthur swore and glared at the door, applying more medicine to the wound in his back and being terribly grumpy. He was yet to kiss Alfred, despite the fact that the other showed obvious interest. "Arthuu~uur! Arthur it's about Giiiillllbee~errtt!" This piqued the Englishman's interest and he pulled his shirt down, smoothing the bandage over the bloody mark and standing up.

"Oh, sod off, I'll be there in a minute," he hissed, placing the ointment back on the shelf next to his copy of _Desert Flora and Fauna_, noticing idly the little white flower that poked out between the pages. He smiled, and strolled casually over to the door, opening it and squinting his eyes, waving his hand in the air to attempt to clear away some of the hot air. Feliciano stood there bouncing impatiently, and took his hand, yanking the Brit off of his own porch, barely having time to shut the door behind him before flouncing all the way over to the General Store, where they sat on rocking chairs, Feliciano curling up in a rocking 'bench' with Ludwig. Arthur was still not sure if they were an official couple yet.

It was then that he noticed what was going on in the sole, unpaved dusty street of Sandy Flats. A showdown, of sorts between the cowboy Gilbert Wielshmidt and the _lovely_ lady Elizaveta Herdevary, one on either side of the dusty street. Elizaveta was armed with a frying pan, looking murderous as if she were just about to kill Gilbert, while the other looked a little cocky, but terrified as well.

"_YOU SLEPT WITH HIM!?"_

Gilbert was starting to look as if he might cry. "Once! Just once, I swear!"

"OH, _JUST_ _ONCE_? IS THAT _ALL?!_"

"Listen, Eliza-"

"YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO CALL ME THAT!" she roared, hat falling off of her head and hanging from her neck, between her shoulderblades. She shoved at Gilbert's shoulders, knocking him to the ground and scowling down at him with a disgusted and condescending look, pressing her foot down between his legs. He gaped at her.

"You wouldn't!"

"I WOULD. EXPLAIN YOURSELF," she commanded, putting more pressure on her foot. He yelped and began to babble.

"It was before you were married, really, we were both drunk one night and it went downhill and I don't even remember it all that much and I don't really like him, I _swear_, I just do it to get on your nerves! We used to be such great friends, Eliza, and I wanted your attention back! Ever since you started dating him, it's been 'Roddy this' and 'Roddy that' and he's a really boring guy, Eliza! I mean, I know you like him and all, but why can't we be friends like we used to be? I – I don't like Roderich like that, really, I don't, I know you don't believe me, but just let me explain, okay? It's just that ever – I think I'm talking in circles. Do I make sense?" He said it all very quickly.

She stared at him for some time, and Arthur was frightened for Gilbert's possible grandchildren. But Elizaveta sighed and stepped off of him, letting him gawk at her for a moment before saying quietly, "That made no sense at all, Gilbert." However, a chuckle followed, and soon enough, both she and the albino cowboy were in full peals of laughter, Gilbert still on the ground, Elizaveta clutching her sides and bending over. How the high-class lady want-to-be and the tactless cowboy could ever have been childhood friends, it was beyond the Brit, but he assumed it was simply for the best.

Yet – if Gilbert was not as infatuated with Roderich as he had made it seem to the public, was it possible that he had harboured feelings for Matthew, true feelings, that he was unwilling to show due to some softer side, all this time? Arthur snorted, dusting himself off and waving goodbye to Feliciano and Ludwig. Certainly not. Gilbert may not be the bastard that Arthur thought he was, but he could not have a softer side – still… the doctor turned back, seeing Ludwig press a chaste kiss to the Italian's temple, and smirked. Perhaps true, tender personalities ran in the family.

Arthur closed the door again, walking over to the shelf by the third patient's bed, and tossing his copy of _Desert Flora and Fauna _onto the second patient's bed, along with the ointment, and walked over to sit on it. He flipped open the pages, looking inside until a small white flower popped out of the pages, floating in the air and eventually landing in the Englishman's lap. He held it gingerly in his hand, hoping that it wouldn't fall apart and crumble in the dry air. He set it on the white sheets, closing the book and pushing it aside before opening the tub of ointment and lifting up the back of his shirt. He unwrapped the bandage and rubbed ointment over the wound. It was healing nicely, considering it had been made with a rusty garden-spike. The Brit sighed and looked out the door to the private examination room, and, in turn, the door to the back yard and his garden. He was reminded of the cabinet he had to clean, and decided to clean it tomorrow.

---

One more chapter tonight. Sorry, no drawings today. Scanner's being a bloody ass. Oh, you'll like the next few. I might pluck up the determination to write one more after the next one, and then the next one is already written… But I should give you guys some time to let it all sink in…


	23. Of Turpentine and Toothpaste

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Twenty Three: Of Turpentine and Toothpaste

---

Arthur sighed. Every cabinet and drawer had been cleaned in the house during his months in Sandy Flats, except for one in the back corner of the private examination room, hidden by the bed. He knelt, opening it and immediately being hit by a rush of smells. Linseed oil and turpentine; whoever owned this house must have been an oil painter, he knew those smells anywhere. He reached into the depths of the cabinet, pulling out bottles, jars, and tubes. There was even a very well-done painting of a younger Matthew. Arthur could recognise his friend anywhere. He chuckled, making note to tease him later for modelling for a painting. He found several other interesting items: a tube of toothpaste that had moulded onto the cobalt, and a series of colourful hair bands. And – what was this, flowers? Dried and shrivelled, they fell to pieces in his hands, but there were indeed flowers. Reds and blues, mainly. The doctor chuckled, pulling two more canvases out. One was of the kitchen upstairs in a pretty sunset light, but the other was unfinished. Still, he could tell that it was of the wildflowers.

"A painter, hmm?" he hummed, greatly amused by finding this little treasure. He felt around, sure he had emptied the cabinet. Finally, the house was clean!

But wait –

His hands brushed over a book. It was thin and worn, but a book none-the-less. He pulled it out, humour fading. The cover had no writing, but was wrapped in a pleasant violet colour. On the inside cover were written the words,

_Love, brother._

It was dated only three years prior.

Arthur stared for a long moment, turning the page. The first entry was dated in April.

_Dear Diary,_

_ Brother is so silly to buy me such a useless trinket, but it makes him so happy to see me write in it. He says he loves to spoil me. I believe this to be true._

Arthur smiled at the sweetness, and read on. The writer was obviously a girl from her curly writing.

_Oh, brother says I must put my most personal secrets in here; I think he just wants to read them later although he promised not to do so. Let's see…. I used brother's toothpaste, and left makeup on the tube! Now I have got to hide it or he'll know that I've used it and be very peeved._

The entry ended, and Arthur took a moment to look down at the toothpaste with a chuckle. The entries were not signed, but the next one was dated June.

_Dear Diary,_

_ I've fallen in love, I'm sure! Oh, but he will never fall for me. I have settled for less, although it _is_ quite close. I don't want to say names should brother find this and hunt them down. But he is the most beautiful boy, and I wish that he were mine. I do hope the other never finds out; what treachery it would be! I would never live it down. I, still, am sure that my replacement-boy will never abandon me, for his love is more pure than angels._

Arthur snorted. Women. The next entry, dated October, took an abrupt turn.

_Dear Diary,_

_ Brother is intending to do something very, very rash. You see, my replacement-boy did find out about my true love, and was quite horrified. He did not love me like I thought he did! He lied to me! He told me that he would stay with me forever, but, now, he has left me! I am angrier than ever, and I told brother that he broke my heart. I don't care if it is necessarily untrue, brother will never know! But sister does. And sister never tells, I'm sure. Now I'll have to hide this diary as well. Brother can not know that I told him untrue things, for even though I am older, familial trust may not be broken. And brother intends to murder my replacement-boy. He intends to make him feel pain like I have felt, but only a hundred times over. Part of me is pained, but I know that he deserves it. He left me, and he deserves to die._

Silence hung in the air of the private examination room, tension building. The air was suddenly stifling as Arthur loosened his tie and shuffled away from the little cabinet, sending the two doors shifty looks while he leaned against the bed. The next entry was dated two days after its predecessor.

_Dear Diary,_

_ We must leave. Brother follows through with his madness tonight, and is now quite sinister. And sister; oh something has gone terribly wrong, terribly wrong. She snickers and cackles and repeats things at odd times. She drags her nails over the walls and clings on to brother. Her eyes are not soft and caring and gentle like they once were, subdued, but now crazed. And brother, brother is always so cheery now. He is cheery in the strangest way. It makes me frightened, diary, I'm terrified of brother. I gave him a sunflower from Ludwig's store, but it did not make him happy like it used to. He does not smile truly, like he did when he bought me this wretched book, but grins like a fox. His smile makes me cringe and shiver. His eyes are cold and cruel and I wonder if they see in me the same madness I see in them. But they are family, and brother has reminded me that family is all that can be trusted. We are leaving tonight. When brother follows through with his rash plan of murder, we will not be appreciated any longer by this town. We are heading to the gorge, and it is there that we will stay. I fear that brother will not be satisfied with the murder of only one. He is quite mad now, and I fear that his hunger has grown._

_Yekatarina_

Arthur closed the diary, swallowing thickly after checking for more entries. While he had not heard this name before, he was certain of one gang of bandits that lived in the gorge for a long time, one with two sisters and a brother, and he was certain that no one in Sandy Flats would be willing to give him an explanation of the events of why Ivan Braginski was the most hated man in the West, or the dark unfolding events that his elder sister bestowed on the family.

---

Isn't this a terribly interesting story?

Written on: December 15, 2009


	24. Several Hidden Intentions

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Twenty Four: Several Hidden Intentions

---

It's a Tuesday, but Arthur doesn't care. He's got this diary and he wants answers, whether the town is willing to give them to him or not. Something happened, October, three years prior to the day, and he was about to find out from that cheery sheriff right now, no matter undressings he was trying to accomplish. The town seemed oddly empty, even more so than usual. Arthur tucked the diary into his coat, not caring that it must be hot enough to boil water just by holding it in the air, he simply had to wear the coat. Every house seemed to have eyes, watching him with half-lidded curtains and he wished all the barrels would turn to peppermints and the houses to sweets because he was sure that they would be less intimidating. Who was it that Ivan Braginski had killed? A relative of someone alive? Could it be that there was a reason more than simply justice that Alfred wished to hunt down the Russian?

He was only a few steps from the sheriff's office when he heard voices inside. Voices he recognised, but they were not the fussy Italian's, not the cheery sheriff's. The doctor ducked to the side of the building, tossing himself into the shadows and holding the diary close through his jacket. The open window above him let the voices hang over the hot air.

"I don't know what we can do with Natalia, she won't respond to anything that I ask her. There's only so much you can do without torturing her, and I refuse to drop to the level of that damned bandit," a faintly German voice said, gruff but crisp. Arthur knew it was Ludwig's, without even seeing the man.

"Let's turn 'er in, there's no use in holdin' her here, except t' entice the bastard back!" Alfred exclaimed, sounding angry and frustrated. There was a long silence, and then the Spanish voice responded.

"If we turn her in, he will seek revenge. If we hold her here, he will try and save her. It is better to put her away; then, she will not be able to escape." There were several murmurs of agreement amongst the group. Arthur's heart thudded in his chest, and he came to a realisation. They could not know about the diary, they could not know. They were hiding this from him in fear of suspicion. Anything in here, they probably knew. It was up to him to find the truth out alone. These men would tell him nothing. They did not trust the newcomer, despite the months that he had spent in their town. There must have been must mistrust in the past.

"Listen, I've got to go home. Elizaveta will be wondering, and she's been insisting that I play the piano for her," Roderich said quietly, and Arthur gawked at the side of the office. Even he was invited, but not the Englishman? Gilbert's laugh rang out.

"She's gotchya on a tight leash, man!" More murmurs. The second step squeaked loudly, and Roderich walked past, not seeing Arthur hidden in the shadows.

"Should I go down an' try an' talk to her?" Alfred asked, but Ludwig grunted.

"There's no use. What questions will we get answered? If you and Bruder did not find their camp in your weeks of searching through that canyon, no map her crazed mind can give us will lead us there any faster."

Antonio cut in again. "What if they're not alone? What if it's more than just the three of them?"

A pregnant pause hung in the air, and Arthur shifted on his feet. "Impossible!" Gilbert said.

The doctor fingered the edge of the diary. This adventure directly involved him; how had the Russian learned of the cliffrose? Arthur had tucked it in the diary's pages before he left his house. He turned his head, looking around suspiciously before seeing something he hadn't noticed before.

A little flap.

A little flap with the words 'Jail' written on it with white paint.

Feeling bold and rather rash, Arthur threw it open, peering down into the darkness, seeing a rope ladder that would lead him down to answers and questions. Taking a huge breath, he could hear more arguing in the office. The world be damned, he reached behind himself, wincing as his hands brushed over the wound in his back.

As the Keeper of the diary, it was his duty to find the truth, and the truth lay with Natalia Braginski.

---

I'd like to say something since this chapter is so short. You know what will happen. You have two options. You may keep reading my incredibly fast updates (I think I've updated 7 times today?), and you will find all of your answers, as Arthur would have, had he waited like a damsel in distress, or you can go back and _look_ for the answers. Everything is there.

When I write, I ask myself if every word is necessary. You have already met Yekaterina's true love, and there are obvious hints as to whom it is, and her false one, you already have the clues to know why Peter is so angry at Arthur, and many, many other things. I love leaving hints, so once you've read the entire fic and know all of the answers, you can go back and reread it and pick up on things that you didn't think were important at the time. You know connections between Ivan and Alfred you didn't know existed, if you only just take the time to _pause_ and _read_. Go ahead. Go back and look before you pounce into the next chapter.

Because trust me when I say that it will bring as many questions as it will answers.


	25. A Meeting with a Fugitive

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Twenty Five: A Meeting with a Fugitive

---

The jail cells were very dark, hardly lit by the dripping candles that now only resembled grotesque wax formations. Arthur shivered in the drop in temperature, waving away a cobweb that hung on the ladder. Why there was another trap door, Arthur could not be sure; for fires? He landed on the jail floor with a light thud, a cloud of dust pluming around him. The doctor coughed and waved it away, blinking, eyes adjusting to the dim light. Two cells were empty, but one housed a girl. He could only assume that this was Natalia Braginski, the infamous knife-master and prisoner of the state. Fingers drumming over the diary's edge, he stepped forward, kneeling by the cell.

Natalia was a pretty girl, with long pale hair, a bony face, and an elegant scowl. A ragged bow sat atop her head. She was turned away, curled in the corner of her dingy cell.

"Ma'am?" Arthur called, leaning close to the bars. Natalia did not move. "Ma'am, I've come to ask you some questions," he tried, surprised when she looked up at him with the same eerie violet eyes as her brother.

She laughed prettily, the peals of mockery hanging in the air. "Oh, come to ask questions, has he? Come to find brother through poor, weak sister, has he? Wants to know more, he does. They come to Natalia, they does, with excuses, excuses!" she sneered, slinking forward along the cell floor until she clung to the bars, hanging from them like a skeleton. "Excuses, excuses and _lies!_" she chanted, a wild rage evident in her ghostly eyes.

Arthur cringed, resisting the urge to back away. She was panting from her shouting, but attracted no attention from the people upstairs. "I do not come to ask you about your brother," he said simply, watching her hang off of his every word.

"Lies," she hissed, "I saw you with the blonde man, Alfred's his name, I know, I know. He's a fool – and for you to fall so hard only makes an ass out of you!" she laughed. "Irony! Irony! That the Englishman should fall like sister before him!"

Arthur's patience grew thin, and he pulled the diary from his jacket. "This," he stated, waving it in the candlelight. "Do you recognise this?" Natalia's eyes lit up in surprise before she began to laugh prettily again.

"Oh, irony! Irony! That _you_ should be a doctor in the old abandoned doctor's house, and find poor, lovestruck sister's diary! That you should find it in the abandoned doctor's house, where she thought she had hid it so well! It is her fault, all hers, to give her heart so freely! To give her heart to a boy! A boy!" she snickered, voice growing to a hush whisper, greedy grin on her face. "When it was his brother whom she truly loved!"

The pieces began to fall in place. "Natalia, ma'am, what was the name of the man she truly loved?"

The Russian giggled cruelly, as if she found it all terribly amusing. "Matthew Williams!" Arthur suddenly remembered the portrait. "And he doesn't know to the day! Oh, but Alfred knew! And though he cared for her so, his care grew thin. How can you love someone who only loves your twin – Your twin! He left her, he did, do you hear? I can tell you the story as it was through not-lovestruck eyes. Brother can not, he tried to kill his best friend! And Brother was the reason that Alfred is in this town, mark my words. If it were not for his enemy, the toy would never have met his _love_. Oh but sister! And when he left her, cried for days and days, she did, for now Matthew could never be hers! She used him! And brother, see brother knows where loyalties lie. In debt, in family, and in no other order. He reminded her of this, and she promised never to leave us again. The family, no one leaves the family. He tried to kill him, brother did, for sister told him he had broken her heart. For sister told him, she did! She told brother _lies_."

Arthur interrupted her. "But then Alfred and Matthew are innocent! Why hunt them down?"

"Do debt, to family, and no other order. Sister told brother her story, and, as youngest, I can not contradict her."

"I see, continue." He prompted, pocketing the diary.

"And so brother tried to kill your precious Alfred. But he could not; brave, noble Matthew, always in his brother's shadow, stopped him, the nerve! Be the hero for once! He promised brother he would kill him if he tried to harm a hair on precious Alfred's head!" she cackled. "The weakling! No hero can kill brother, a wise man told him so. No hero, no hero! In return, brother promised Alfred. Keep your treasures, close, he said, he said! Keep them close, for when your back is turned, they are mine! _MINE!_"

Arthur recalled the promise Braginski had mentioned the night Natalia was captured. "But what is Alfred's greatest treasure?" he inquired.

She sneered, obviously having waited for the question all night. "You."

They sat there, Arthur staring at her in shock, Natalia grinning like a Cheshire cat. Oh, through the looking class Arthur had fallen.

"And now the doctor, the toy, the prize! He comes to Natalia asking questions! Comes to find more! To debt, to family, and in no other order! Oh brother, oh brother, no hero, no hero! Irony! Irony! Excuses, excuses, and _LIES_!" she screeched, making dust fall from the ceiling, bony knuckles clutching the bars, eyes wild with insanity, voice escalating.

"Oi!" came a rapping on the trap door leading to the office. "Keep it down in there!"

She continued to chant, pretty face contorted in crazed pleasure. Arthur stood to take his leave. "Thank you, ma'am, that will be all."

Natalia paused in her mantra and grinned darkly at him, bony fingers clutching the bars, turning her knuckles white, looking as if she had just told a terribly funny story.

"Excuses, excuses, and _lies_."

---

I handwrote this on parchment, and I'm willing to give it away if anyone would like. Written in pen and ink on parchment. PP: No charge, it creeps me out.

Written on: December 15, 2009.


	26. The Purpose of Tea

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Twenty Six: The Purpose of Tea

---

"_MAKE WAY, MAKE WAY, LET ME IN, __**KIRKLAND!**_" a voice roared, shaking Arthur from peaceful slumber. In fact, the Englishman nearly toppled out of his bed in fright, waking in a cold sweat from the memories of yesterday. There was another rapping on the door, this time more frantic. By the pale light drifting in from the only window in Arthur's bedroom, he could assume it was deep into the night. Warily, the Brit lit a candle, grabbed the only pistol he owned (it was unloaded, but hopefully it would scare off the Russian), and tiptoed down the stairs.

When he flung the door opened and pointed the gun hastily, however, he was met with a much more familiar pair, but in an unfamiliar setting. Gilbert shouldered past Arthur, kicking the door closed behind him, and settled the blonde on the second patient's bed, tucking him in immediately. "Lock the door, god damn it, do you know what sort of times we live in?" Arthur knew. Arthur knew all too well; the wound in his back had started to ooze strange pus. He locked the door, and Gilbert immediately sat on the third patient's bed, holding his face in his hands. "Is he going to die, oh, is he going to die?" he moaned, looking as if it were his entire fault.

Arthur blinked slowly, staring at the albino cowboy before walking slowly over to Matthew and pressing his hand to his forehead, jerking it away by the sudden, strong temperature. Gilbert was babbling again, and Arthur scurried back to the private examination room, which had turned into a bit of a store cupboard, before unlocking and walking out the back door to the well (one of the three in the town), where he pulled up a bucket of cold water, and dipped a cloth in it before heading back in to where Gilbert and Matthew were, locking the door behind himself.

He allowed Gilbert to wipe at Matthew's forehead, since it seemed to ease his incredible stress, while the doctor searched for vital signs. "He's running an incredibly high fever, and if he lasts through the night, then yes, he will live."

"_If_ he makes it through the night? What's that supposed to mean, doc? You think he won't?!" Gilbert inquired, eyes flitting from Arthur to Matthew.

The Brit sighed. "Fevers, ones this high at least, have been known to cause death in our time and age. Stay with him and wipe him with the towel is the only cure I can give. For the moment, I will need a few minutes to confirm my suspicions in my medical manuals," he stated firmly, eyebrows furrowed in worry. Matthew _looked_ as if he only had a very bad flu, but Arthur was not familiar with diseases and plagues that were more common in this area.

He stood, medical diary open next to him, manuals spread over the private examination bed. Arthur paused, looking up at the small little cabinet that he had discovered only a few days ago, and opened only yesterday. Matthew Williams, did he realise it or not, was the indirect reason for his brother's near death, and, in turn, the strange wound in Arthur's back. But none of it was his fault, naturally.

Something clicked.

_The two of us have always been the closest of friends, needing no one else but ourselves. That was before – well, Alfred made a good friend there. He told us that he was moving to Sandy Flats, that it was gonna get big one day, and we'd be mayors or preachers or something in a big city. He's – Well, I suppose you can say he's gone now._

Matthew, from the day that they had worked in the garden together, had told Arthur of a friend of Alfred's that had _left_. Well, what if he never did leave the property, but had left in spirit, in sense? That their best friend had left, but was replaced with an enemy?

_Brother can not, he tried to kill his best friend! And Brother was the reason that Alfred is in this town, mark my words. If it were not for his enemy, the toy would never have met his __love__._

From the interview with Natalia… He… Alfred and Braginski had been friends, the truest of them all, the reason that Alfred and Matthew were in this little town, the reason that Matthew had ever met Yekatarina. So many things began to unfurl in the doctor's mind. It was deep treachery then, in Braginski's mind, when Alfred broke his sister's heart, for the right hand man to be so cruel to his _family_, which was obviously incredibly important to the Russian.

Arthur snapped the medical journal closed, and walked back into the public examination room, Gilbert smiling warily. "He – The temperature went down, you were in there a long time, but I didn't want to disturb you – and, he's woken up, you see, he's really groggy and everything, but he's woken up and that _does_ mean that he'll get better, doesn't it?"

The doctor walked over next to them, and looked down at the smiling violet eyes. They were not the cold, cruel eyes of Ivan Braginski, nor were they wild with insanity like Natalia. They were warm and soft and caring, weary though from illness. He wondered vaguely if Braginski's eyes were soft, when he was a different man. Without looking up, and quite unsure of whom he was addressing, Arthur responded, "Yes. He will recover. What were you doing with him, anyway, when he fell ill?" he asked Gilbert, looking up to see a surprisingly pink face and shy red eyes.

"We… we were talking, and I knew that he was ill, you can just tell, but he insisted that he was okay…" Arthur snorted, biting back a laugh.

"You were talking at…" he looked at the large grandfather clock by the window. "two in the morning?"

"It was closer to one at the time!"

"_Arthur… Y-you…"_

The two men hung off of the blonde's scratchy words, leaning closer to hear them.

"_You really m-must meet Kiku sometime…"_ he whispered, before smiling and nodding off back to sleep. Gilbert gave him a fond look, and Arthur couldn't hold back his laugh.

"Oh, he's got his priorities straight, for sure. I'll have to stay up with him, though, to make sure that he doesn't go under."

"I'll stay too!" he responded all too eagerly, and Arthur noticed something he hadn't before. Gilbert, though he was hiding it famously, was holding Matthew's hand under the sheets of his patient's bed. Arthur smiled softly.

"If you'd like. Could I interest you in some tea?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Sure, but, wait – there's one thing I've been meaning to ask you. I asked Eliza, and she said 'to accompany a good pastry!' (he said this in a terribly nasally voice), but I think you'll have a better answer. What's the… purpose of tea?"

Arthur stood in the doorway for a moment, thinking it over before looking at Matthew and Gilbert. "Medically, I would say 'to calm one's nerves', but in truth, I'd say 'to bring the drinker happiness'. It's a bit like beer in that odd way, but much more sophisticated. There's also the 'to loosen conversation' option, the 'to wake you up in the morning' option, and the 'to give someone a chance to judge another aristocrat properly' option. I'll let you choose your pick. But, I must say, that only the drinker can define tea for himself, for it is found in the first time he sips a proper cup of London Earl Grey. Let me dash upstairs, I'll fix enough for Matthew if he comes around again."

---

B'AWW. THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE REVIEWS. OMFG. D8 THAT MADE MY LIFE.

Since there are so few chapters left, I'm going to try and only update… let's say four today? Spaced out during the day, naturally, so review between each one if you can. I'm going to miss all of my lovely reviewers. :C You've been so kind to me.

Oh, and note, I was confused myself as to whether Belarus was Natalia or Natalia. I guessed wrong.

**ONCE THE FIC IS OVER, I WILL GO BACK AND DO A HUGE EDIT, INVOLVING ALL TYPOES, ADDING MORE FORESHADOWING/HINTS, AND I WILL CHANGE THE NAMES. THANK YOU.**


	27. A Startling Scenario in the Kitchen

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Twenty Seven: A Startling Scenario in the Kitchen

---

Matthew was healing at a tremendous rate, though it took two days to get Gilbert to go home and come back during hours that weren't as obscene. Arthur sighed, writing notes in his medical journal and sipping tea. The blonde was asleep, snoring softly and making odd murmurs at times. The doctor chuckled, but was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door.

He walked over to it, opening it, ready to tell Gilbert off, since he had only just left when Matthew fell asleep, but was met with a very different sight. Alfred, blushing terribly, stood on his doorstep, holding a branch of cliffroses in full bloom. He stretched his arms out and looked away, not saying anything. Arthur turned pink and unwrapped the other's fingers from around them. "Err – would you like to come in and see your brother…?" he asked, holding the flowers close.

"Nah, Gilbert told me that he's asleep now, but I'd really like t' have a cuppa tea with ya!" he responded, shooting him a dazzling smile. Arthur nodded, feeling butterflies multiply in his stomach before stepping aside and letting the taller man in. They walked upstairs silently, both feeling a little awkward and trying to keep from waking Matthew. Arthur went to show him the kitchen, but Alfred seemed to already be familiar with the household.

"I – er – have never had tea b'fore, so make sure ya make it nice and tasty, ya hear?" he teased, sitting at one of the stools and leaning back on it, boots tucked under the little table. Arthur rolled his eyes and gave a snort. As if he wasn't going to make it properly! He poured water into the kettle, hearing it whistle after a long moment and counting out three spoonfuls of looseleaf tea to his amount of water; one for every drinker and one for the pot! He selected his finest tea cups too; not that they were as nice as Alfred's, he was so very envious that he couldn't bring his all the way from England. Perhaps he could convince the other to have tea with him with those terribly beautiful cups.

A few minutes passed, with both of them sitting at the table, looking awkwardly at one another, until Alfred finally spoke up. "How's ya back?" he inquired, making Arthur blink and gape in surprise.

"Err, getting older?" he said, unsure if the cowboy knew about his wound.

Alfred shook his head though, setting the teacup down. "No, where that damned Russian cut ya; I saw the bastard do it, but I didn' wanna say anythin' 'cuz your so damn proud." Arthur turned red; he would have been quite flustered if Alfred had mentioned it before.

"It's healing slowly."

He hadn't noticed the tension in the blonde's face until it fell away. "Good. I'd have t' go find him righ' here and now if he did anythin lastin'."

Arthur settled his tea cup in the saucer, suddenly aware of how they were leaning in closer to one another over the table, tea forgotten. "Don't worry about me…" he whispered, eyes closing slowly until he was looking at Alfred through his eyelashes.

"But I always do…" the other responded, breath smelling slightly of tea and strongly of coffee, the cowboy hat off of his hair and hung around his shoulders by his neck. Arthur was sure his palms were sweating, leaning in like they had twice before, quite positive that time was slowing down and oh – Alfred's cheeks were so pink and soft, though there was the hint of blonde stubble on his chin and jaw. The other's hand reached up to cup his face again, and his lips weren't even a centimetre away –

"Arthur? Arthur, are you there?" Francis called from the downstairs. Damn it, he had forgotten to lock the door. Arthur turned away, bright red, but suddenly, Alfred had his other hand on his cheek as well, turning his head and pulling him forward and they kissed.

Alfred tasted like bitter coffee and apples and something terribly Alfred-y, and Arthur couldn't get enough. He stood up, both of his hands splayed on the table, a tea cup frightened and nearly knocked over as he pressed back into the kiss, their lips moving in a frantic search to find something in the other. There was no mention of tongues, however, and all too soon those warm lips were gone, the rough, callused hands off of his cheeks, and the butterflies were overpopulating and Alfred was putting his hat back on his head and giving him a look that Arthur could read all too well – it said 'I like you too', he was sure – and walking downstairs and _DAMN IT, FRANCIS!_ If Arthur wouldn't be the man to kill him. He was sure Gilbert had put him up to it; they were very close friends, and Gilbert _had_ heard that Arthur and Alfred were meeting at the stables and _had _met Alfred on his way to the doctor's today and oh, he'd kill those men and their silly little trio!

Yet – Arthur raised a hand to his lips, fingers brushing across his face where Alfred had held it, still bright red and feeling _quite_ ungentlemanly. When had those cliffroses been added to the little vase on the table? And when had Alfred's cup of tea been knocked over, spilling over the table and dripping, forgotten, onto the floor? He couldn't remember, too dazzled by the kiss that he had been waiting for months for.

---

So. Did you like it? What you've been waiting for? It took twenty seven chapters to get to, but they have FINALLY KISSED. HUZZAH. Now how long until they are willing to admit it to the public?


	28. Gunshot in the City

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Twenty Eight: Gunshot in the City

---

"We're saddlin' up, you, uh, wanna come out an' say goodbye to everyun?" Alfred asked from behind Arthur, who was talking to Matthew. The blonde had been well for days, and wouldn't stop teasing his friend about the kiss, making swooning noises whenever his brother entered the room, or cracks about how Arthur would soon be a part of the family. The doctor nodded and gave him a shy smile, which Alfred returned tenfold. He glared at Matthew, who gave him a knowing smirk, and followed the other out the door into the blistering heat, the younger twin behind him.

There, at the edge of the town, was almost everyone in the small village, saddling their horses, checking their packs, and telling loved ones that they'd return safely. Feliciano looked as if he were holding back buckets of tears, and Romano wasn't being nearly as fussy as usual. Arthur saw people there that he hadn't seen before, except perhaps at that party such a long time ago. Matthew tugged his sleeve, pointing at a friend. "That's Kiku," he whispered in his ear. "Don't tell anyone, but he and Heracles are sleeping together. Wouldn't guess it, huh?" he asked, chuckling. Arthur raised an eyebrow. No, he would not have guessed such a stoic little Asian man would be dating the lazy Greek. "Oops! I forgot my glasses-cleaner by the bed. I'll be right back, okay?" he told Alfred and Arthur, winking at the shorter man and running back into the doctor's house.

The two walked over to the group in silence, tension beginning to crackle. They avoided one another's eyes, occasionally brushing against one another and breaking out into a flurry of apologies. Eventually, they managed to awkwardly walk over to Alfred's horse, and Arthur gave the mare a soft pet to her forehead. She whinnied, and pushed her head into his hand. Smiling softly, the Brit let the coarse hair tangle in his fingers, pushing it out of her eyes and tenderly petting her. When he looked up, he saw Alfred pausing, watching him. They both turned red and looked away.

"I'll miss you, you know," Arthur said timidly, starting conversation for the first time between the two. Alfred gave him that award-winning smile and tossed his pack over the mare's back, tightening the girth one last notch. He put an arm out, hand open, and Arthur stared at it for a moment before catching on and placing his own hand in the larger one. He was immediately yanked into an embrace, Alfred wrapping his arms around him and whispering something in his ear, he couldn't quite tell what, he was trying too hard to keep his pulse in check.

"Oi, lovebirds, we've got to head out!" Gilbert shouted at them, probably quite angry that Matthew wasn't there to see him off. Arthur snorted at his jealousy.

"You _will_ come back, right?" Arthur asked in a hushed voice, green eyes filled with worry.

Alfred pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and nodded against his face. "Of course. I'm th' _hero_, I gotta come back in one piece."

"Oh, you'd better or I'll never let you forget it, even in the afterlife!" Arthur snarled, and after another whistle from Gilbert, they unlatched from one another, awkwardness returning full force as people sent them knowing looks. When the doctor turned to see the cowboy, he was already on his horse, cowboy hat tilted forward, feet in the stirrups.

"Don't worry, babe, I won't be gone long," he promised, leaning down to pull something out of his sleeve and tuck it behind Arthur's ear. The Brit huffed and immediately pulled it away. It was another cliffrose, which he kept in his hands, too embarrassed to wear it behind his ear with other people nearby.

They were all packed up, ready to go, Feliciano now bawling openly, Romano holding something that Antonio had given him; for sure it was the Sheriff, Kiku and Heracles sharing a quiet look, and an overall furious Gilbert. The sun was high in the sky, being around midday, and sweat had begun to make the back of Arthur's hair damp. He idly wondered where Matthew had gone to, if it took this long, and leaned against the post that Alfred's horse had been tied to. He prayed they wouldn't be in the canyon the weeks that the two scouts had been; but still, it was only two people, surely the entire group of seven men could handle them, right? Suddenly, Arthur wished he could have gone, told them that they needed a doctor on the trip, that if someone got wounded, they might not get back in time…. It wouldn't have worked anyway. It was a feeble excuse to make sure that Alfred would be okay, and they would all know it.

His silly infatuation – couldn't he just admit it to the world, instead of sitting there like a blubbering fish and be embarrassed whenever someone saw them together? Be the man that he was, instead of some – some – simpering schoolgirl! He had had relationships in University, he hadn't been so bloody bashful then!

Yet, Arthur knew why. This world was so… romantic, in any sense of the word. A fanciful adventure, with his cowboy hero out saving the town; now he felt like some housewife. So different from England, from the gloomy world he had left, unknowing of the adventure he would come across in the desert. The horses had begun to walk, everyone waving and cheering.

But then there was the gunshot, and the laughter that pierced the heavens. Arthur turned, he knew that laughter. A tall man with two women by his sides, backlit by the burning sun overhead, held a gun high in the air. "What a happy reunion, da? Were you looking for me?"

---

SUSPENSELOLOLOL.


	29. A Eucatastrophe

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Twenty Nine: A Eucatastrophe

---

Arthur stared, seeing Yekatarina for the first time, recognising, even from a distance, her hair band, identical to the ones that he had found in the cupboard. Natalia, crazed and cackling behind her brother, wielded several knives. The doctor wondered idly how she had escaped, but had no time to, as she was skipping daintily closer to him.

"Back off!" Alfred howled, pulling his gun out and pointing at her approaching figure. She continued to laugh, and a hand caught Alfred's wrist, bringing the gun off of its target.

"Fighting is bad, aru," a man in red told him, hair tied back in a ponytail. He had with him several other shady figures. Alfred growled, and spurred his horse, trying to get out of the Asian man's grip.

Arthur turned to see their armada of cowboys be wrangled in by Yekatarina and a gang that he had not seen before; had it been that the Russians were not alone in the gorge? That they had had help all along, and now that the poor town was trying so hard to fight back, they had come to quash them down? No, no, _no!_ Braginski's laughter rang in his ears, tears falling down his face as Alfred was pulled from his horse, falling without grace onto the dusty floor. The doctor's hands, now tied behind his back, struggled for release; he needed to help them!

But Natalia wanted to play. "Oh, don't worry about them, _silly boy_, Natalia will keep you entertained, yes, she will, she will! She told the toy, she told him no one could defeat her brother, oh, the _irony_! And now Natalia gets to play with the toy, she does, she does!" she sneered, the wild cruelty in her eyes evident as she pulled a knife that nearly blinded Arthur as it shone in the sunlight. She held it up for him to see, lips taut in a sinister smile. "Natalia wants to play surgeon, she does. The doctor can tell her all about little organs and bones, he can," she informed him, and the rest of the world was lost to the Brit as the girl pressed the blunt edge to his neck, trailing the blade across his soft, vulnerable skin. She chuckled. "Don't speak, except to scream," she commanded, flipping it to the flat edge of the knife, the sharp edge brushing the underside of the Englishman's jaw. He stared at her, heart pounding, filled with fear and rage.

"_GET OFFA HIM!"_ Alfred growled, hands tied behind his back, shuffling over to the isolated pair, a murderous scowl on his face. "I _swear_, by thunder, if you lay a damn finger on that man, I'll kill ya, ya hear? I'll fuckin' kill ya!" he struggled against the ropes, but Arthur could see that it was no use. Beyond him, the others were being tied as well. Gilbert… that Berwald fellow… Even Heracles and Ludwig and Antonio…

"Alfred, go…" he said weakly, fear pulsing through him, the sharp edge of the knife now light against his neck, the cool metal against his exposed skin. "Please, don't fuss…" he pleaded, leaning his head away from the blade, tears falling down his face.

It was then that Kiku, whom he had heard only a few words from, let out a harassed cry. "_Brother?_" he gaped, frantic as he stared at the girlish man in the red robes. "How could you – I thought you had _died!_" he exclaimed. He was not tied.

"No, brother, I had to leave you. At the time, aru, you could not have understood. You came to Sandy Flats, but I followed Ivan, because Ivan knows the true order, aru. And you may now join us, he's told me so. You owe it to your family."

There was a resounding snap, and the red-robed man let out a furious noise. Kiku, knuckles blooded from the man's nose, peacefully allowed two other Asian men to tie him, vicious murder in his eyes. "You are no family of mine," he told the other, and Arthur had a sudden respect for this man. However, the knife was beginning to gain pressure, Natalia apparently disinterested in the little show. He let out a whimper, and leaned his head as far away as his neck would allow, when, amongst all of the town's failure, Alfred shouted.

"A showdown! Braginski! I challenge you!" he growled, struggling against the ropes. The Russian, who had been admiring the handiwork of his minions, kicking the Italians and stomping on Elizaveta's hat, breaking it through the middle, looked up, the same cheery smile on his face, but his crazed sister cut him off.

"No hero, no hero can kill brother!" she chanted, pressing the knife closer to Arthur's skin. He was sure it would break the surface soon enough. Alfred didn't seem to care about her prediction, and when Braginski nodded, Yekatarina untied him and tossed him a gun.

"Do your best," she told him, sarcasm dripping off of her pretty lips. How had everything gone downhill so quickly? Within a few minutes of the Russians' arrival, everyone was tied, everyone lost hope, and Alfred was surely to be dead. Arthur's mind span. It was all so confusing.

Braginski stood and faced Alfred, who faced him back. Their hands were at their sides, guns in their slings, fear in neither of their faces. Arthur gasped for air, but Natalia seemed distracted by the going-ons. Everyone was distracted; they watched with a rapt attention as Alfred and Braginski raised their guns, pointed, and, in the midst of the heat of the day, shot.

Braginski fired a moment too soon, but it went off into the sky as his face contorted in pain, blood seeping from the front of his long overcoat. The scarf whipped in the breeze while his eyes rolled back, muscles tensing, and he fell to the ground. Behind him stood Matthew, both hands on the trigger, feet spread in a strong stance.

Natalia wailed. "But – No hero! No hero can kill brother!" she cried.

Matthew shot her a dark look, and dropped the gun casually on the dead man's body. "I am no hero."

---

Sorry, kinda out of it today. Didn't turn out as tension-y as I would have liked.


	30. A Teaspoon of Pride

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Thirty: A Teaspoon of Pride

---

"…Does this mean that Alfred won? Vee~?" Feliciano cheered, looking upset and struggling against his bonds while his brother swore loudly, supposedly comforted by the lazy Spaniard tied up next to him. Cheers let out as Matthew stepped aside Braginski's limp body and sauntered, a smirk on his thin lips, over to the group, immediately wincing as Alfred wrapped an arm around his brother, grinning.

"That was mighty awesome of ya, Mattie!" he complimented, giving the smaller twin a light punch in the shoulder. Matthew rolled his eyes and shoved the cowboy playfully before turning to the shell-shocked villains, who were looking terribly lost without their ringleader. The cowboy lifted his unused gun and Matthew pulled another from his large coat pocket. "Imma thinkin' that ya'll are gonna wanna untie 'em now," Alfred hissed, making Arthur shiver at that now familiar deathly hatred in his voice. Natalia seemed quite upset, shouting and shrieking and making a fuss, though Arthur could hardly care now that she had dropped her knife in rage, nearly missing the doctor's foot.

He snickered at her. "I'm sure you're wishing that brother dear had more than a bloody soothsayer's word to live upon," he sneered, feeling someone beginning to cut his ropes free. "He's not invincible," Arthur scowled down at her as he stood, watching the blonde woman cringe and fall to her knees, tears streaming down her sorry face. He almost pitied her; she was a sad, pathetic sight, bowtie lopsided and face pale, gaunt in the sight of her brother's murder. But she was a mad woman, and there was no pity to be had for the mad. A finger tapped his shoulder, making the Englishman spin around, smiling widely when he saw who it was.

Alfred stood before him, looking only a tad bit shaken. "I s'pose I wasn't the best hero, huh?" he asked, looking sheepish and a little unhappy, smile faltering and blue eyes flickering away as if he had disappointed Arthur terribly by not conquering the Russian with his head on a pike before carrying the smaller man off into the sunset on a white stallion. The Brit snorted loudly, making Alfred give him an affronted look.

Then, Arthur leaned closer, green eyes smiling more than his lips, and whispered in his ear, hating the way that his ears grew hot and face lit up despite himself. "You'll always be a hero to me," he admitted, more to make the other stop looking like a kicked puppy than to be as sweet as he sounded, but the blonde needn't know that. Arthur leaned away again, trying to ignore the way that he wanted to snog Alfred bloody senseless when his face lit up like a child's on Christmas and stop acting like such a fool around the other. What had driven him to say such a ridiculous thing, anyway?

However, Arthur was quickly distracted when he saw the last person be untied, or perhaps not untied at all; Gilbert, with Matthew looking particularly triumphant and smirking at him mischievously. The Brit refrained from calling out and embarrassing the two: he knew that Matthew was normally a very shy person, despite his roguish streaks.

What the Englishman was not expecting was for the timid blonde to press his lips to the albino man, causing him to let out a muffled yelp before kissing back, struggling against the ropes that confined him. Elizaveta let out a shocked gasp, and Feliciano clung to Ludwig, who was attempting to get Natalia tied, though she continued to thrash. "Ludwig! Ludwig! Matthew and Gilbert are kiiiiisssssiiinnggg!" he chimed, grinning in happiness at the pair (who had somehow switched positions with Matthew pressed to the dusty earth, the German straddling him shamelessly, hands still tied behind his back). Ludwig gave a grunt, obviously distracted and not interested in his brother's love life. However, to Arthur's unfortunate luck, Feliciano decided to prompt him to complete the storybook ending, pointing to him and Alfred (they were not standing close, it simply seemed that way since everyone else was so far away, thank you) and shouting on what seemed to be the top of his lungs, "It's Alfred and Arthur's turn now, vee~?"

Silence hung in the air, more tension than the showdown. Arthur was sure his face had never met such colour, even during his period of terrible sunburn when he first arrived in Sandy Flats. Alfred seemed too shocked so say anything, but was eyeing the doctor. Everyone had turned, obviously completely aware of something going on between the two, expecting Arthur to say something, and say something he did.

"W-we're not l-like that!" he stammered, wanting the eyes to look away, to stop caring about what was happening to him and what might be going on between him and Alfred. He knew before he turned around how brokenhearted Alfred must look by the dark glare Elizaveta shot him and the way that everyone had turned away like he had hoped. Yet – as the Englishman spun slowly to look at the cowboy, he only saw his retreating figure as he began to haul bandits off to the jail like the _hero_ he was.

More silence ensued, and Gilbert had somehow been untied, though he was no longer attacking Matthew's face. Elizaveta spoke up amongst the silent din. "To celebrate, I propose another party!" Roderich groaned loudly, but was quickly drowned out by happy exclamations, and Gilbert saying he'd bring beer this time along with Francis and Antonio.

Still, Arthur wanted nothing more than for Alfred to hold him close again and to whisper silly things to him to make him happy. Surely the other could understand that he had only been frightened?

---

Omg. It's me. You thought this was over, didn't you? Don't you pay attention. THIRTY FIVE CHAPTERS. I've had some… mess. Just… mess. Let's leave it at that. But Hellogoodbye and several incredible America-roleplayers brought me back up. Let's see if I can finish this tonight, eh? Review ASAP, and I'll try and pull through. Four more chapters to write, five more to go.


	31. The Beauty of Blooming Squash

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Thirty One: The Beauty of Blooming Squash

---

"Again? I swear, you just want to mooch off of my harvest, you bloody prick," Arthur teased, opening the garden gate, now painted white by Matthew, who had been considerate to think that the doctor had been traumatised by the incident with the Russian. However, at the moment, Matthew was wearing that silly seagull hat again, despite the fact that Arthur had insisted that the tea cosy was a much more sporting look.

Matthew rolled his eyes, and the Brit knew that a sarcastic comment was sure to follow. "Of course, if only to keep the world from your cooking when you try and make them edible. Remember what happened when you sautéed the peppers that Ludwig had ordered from the city for you?" Arthur remembered for sure, the way that Matthew's house was still suffering from severe fire damage, and he was currently living with Gilbert – although, Arthur was sure that that had something to do with more than fire damage. They _had_ been together for several weeks now, which was hardly something he could say about Alfred and himself.

He hadn't talked to the bloody man since the day that Braginski had died. Elizaveta was bustling about, bussing all sorts of food in for the party, Roderich could be heard playing his gorgeous piano mid-afternoon, even Romano had come to a reluctant acceptance of his feelings for Antonio, but Arthur hadn't seen head nor tail of the loud cowboy –

"You're thinking about Alfred, aren't you?" Matthew asked, giving him a knowing look as he plucked a gorgeous, earthen squash off of its stem and placing it in the basket. Arthur turned bright red, willing the blush to go away.

"N-no!"

Matthew only smiled softly, reaching forward for another one. "I know you are. You get this faraway dreamy look, like you're riding unicorns or something. It's cute," he said, having a particularly hard time with the squash and falling forward when it refused to come off of its stem.

"_IT IS NOT CUTE!_" Really now, Arthur had never been so insulted in his life! He was a man, and men were not cute, did not do _cute _things, that was for women! Girls, even! But apparently his most vicious scowl was not enough for Matthew, who only laughed and continued to struggle with the squash.

"_Cuuuuuuuteee~_" he teased, finally plucking it off and placing it softly into the basket with the others.

"Well, you're dating Gilbird now – "

"Gilbird is his pet, not him!"

" – so I suppose I'm allowed to tease you back?"

"At least my love life didn't come to a sudden halt."

They both knew that Matthew had pushed the teasing too far. The blonde paused mid-reach for another vegetable. "He's not angry, you know, he just thinks you don't like him like that since – well – you told everyone you didn't."

Arthur frowned at the basket of gorgeous squashes. "I – I know…" he murmured, voice low. "But – "

"I know that you do like him, I'm not stupid," he said suddenly, pulling at the squash. "He just needs to get over himself and make you all flattered again, then he'll see that you're obviously infatuated with him."

Arthur gawked. " I – I am – "

"Something else is bugging you too," Matthew prompted like clockwork, flicking a bug off of the squash and setting it into the basket. "I can't figure out what it is, though."

Arthur's memory spun him back to the last time that they had sat in the garden together, talking of family. And the time he had planted the seeds, the seeds of his doubts, he supposed with a bitter chuckle. "It's my brother," he admitted finally, pulling a squash and placing it on the stack.

Matthew gave him a curious look. "You have a –"

"Yes, I have a brother. His name is Peter and he's a terribly annoying little man."

---

"_I'm not going to see him off to the train, Mum! I'm not going to see him go! He's been nothing but trouble to us, he can go anywhere he wants if he likes! He can see the world! He can never come home, see if I care!" Peter stomped behind the cracked door, candlelight flickering._

"_Hush, Peter, now, don't cause such a fuss; do you want him to hear?" a woman's voice asked softly. She sounded like warm milk and the curve of fabric thrown over a bed in haste._

"_I don't care! I don't care at all anymore!"_

"_That's not true, Peter," she said sternly, and Arthur was sure, as he pressed his ear closer to the cracked door, that she had shifted and was reaching her arms out for a hug. Never did she grab them, hold them close against their will, but, instead, she opened her arms in question._

"_Arthur? Arthur?"_

---

"Arthur? Arthur?" Matthew's voice yanked the doctor back into the present, seeing those blonde eyebrows furrowed in concern. Apparently, he had many far-away looks. "You have to tell me what's wrong now," he insisted, examining a purple spot on a squash before throwing it out of the garden and onto the open flats.

"My brother has always been a bit bitter towards me," he said finally, looking up at Matthew blankly, hoping the subject would drop itself, but Matthew only gave him a pitying look.

"I don't know what I would do if I was away from Alfred for a long time…" he said quietly, and suddenly it all clicked.

"_Oh _boo hoo_, Arty's __heartbroken__, better call Mum! Better come home for holidays since he got his poor little heart stomped on by some boy at school! Better not hang out with his friends like he _always_ does, better come dirty our doorstep with his bloody _TEARS!_"_

He had not noticed the way that Peter spat out his scorn towards his friends before. He remembered the day that Matthew had helped him weed in the garden, vaguely wondering _if Peter missed him, if he had missed him at all during those summers he had spent with friends during University._

"_To debt, to family, and in no other order!"_

Could it be that he had left Peter behind, that his brother was not angry or bitter towards him for whom he was, but jealousy for the attention he had lost so many years ago?

---

"_Where are we going, Arty? I don't want to crawl much further, I'm afraid of what Mum will say when she sees the stains on my new outfit!" Peter whined, chasing Arthur down further into the brush._

"_Oh, come _on_, it's only a little further. And trust me, this is worth it!" he said, a smile tugging at his lips as he turned back to face his younger brother, finally stepping out of the tunnel he had carved in the bushes. They had reached a clearing, a grassy knoll with trees all around._

"_Wow, Arty, we must be really deep in the forest!" Peter exclaimed._

"_Shh!" Arthur hushed him, ducking down. The younger boy, with wide eyes, did the same. "I'm going to show you something I've never shown anyone else, okay? You have to promise that you won't tell Mum, though!" Peter nodded, and the bond of secrecy continued, their trust remaining._

_Slowly, a tinny song began to echo through the woods, bouncing off the trees like a songbird's tune, but much more beautiful and sad and sombre. Little cyan lights floated into the clearing, dancing in pairs and trios and singing all in glorious harmony. As Arthur squinted his eyes, he saw their little heads and wings and shoes as a handsome man asked a pretty girl for a dance, spinning her around the clearing. While it was a happy, joyful, dance, it was a reminder of something Arthur had known for a very, very long time._

_The fairies were dying. As he turned to see Peter's glowing, admiring eyes, he knew that as long as someone believed, deep in the forests of England, there would still be a fairy to dance to their lonely song. Arthur wrapped an arm around his younger brother before turning back and listening to the high, quiet hush of the fairies' song._

---

"I think that's about everything, huh? Let's head in and see if we can sell the worst ones to Ludwig, hmn?" Matthew asked, picking up the bushel and opening the gate for Arthur. He would offer to make him a cup of tea, and stay late into the evening, teasing and gossiping and doing everything that best friends do.

---

Didn't originally intend for the fairy-sequence. Now you finally know why Peter is so bitter to Arthur. Sob. Lots and lots of dialogue, but a very long chapter nonetheless. Hope you liked it.


	32. A Story of Sexual Tension

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Thirty Two: A Story of Sexual Tension

---

"I'm supposing that you all will be there tomorrow at my celebratory ball; I'm sure it'll be the best one yet! Roddy's going to be playing the piano – oh, Arthur, come sit next to me," Elizaveta insisted, pulling him down on the log next to hers and her husband's as she rambled on to the unusually large group at the fire. Almost all of the stumps and logs were taken, with the exception of the one Arthur had just sat on; there was room for one more person. He looked around, noticing Matthew trying to push a particularly touchy Gilbert off of him and Romano in a similar position.

Arthur sighed; he had finally come to terms that perhaps Gilbert wasn't as much as a bloody fucking arsehole as he had originally thought. Although, according to Matthew, he still insisted that the blonde make him pancakes every day, though he was hardly complaining; it was more of a flirty, teasing insistence instead of the blunt order it had been before. Arthur always felt a little ill during these discussions, how he would hear how wonderfully 'Gil' and 'Mattie' were getting along. Even when he went to the General Store to buy staples, Feliciano would bounce up to him and chime about how 'Luddie-wuddie' had told him that his brother and Matthew were living together. The Englishman wrapped an arm around his stomach, not wanting to think about how almost everyone's love life had turned out smashingly with the exception of his own and – oh – it was _all_ his fault!

Suddenly, the group went silent, though not with fear. It was more of a quiet awkwardness as they realised something unfortunate was just about to happen, and Arthur knew that, of course, it simply had to involve him.

"Err – sorry that I'm late, but I was eatin' supper late and lost track o' the time," that far-too-familiar Southern drawl informed the group as he stood behind the stock still Brit, looking around for some other place to sit without seeming rude, but seeing as couples had taken up every one of the other logs, he was left to sit unnaturally close to Arthur, avoiding his eyes as Arthur avoided his. The Englishman wondered what was going through the other's mind, wishing that the hadn't been such an ass the day that Braginski died; if he had just admitted his feelings to the bloody town, they would be in the same position as the rest of the town, all happy and in love – what a girlish thing to think!

"No – No, it's fine Alfred, we were just discussing what we would be doing at my party, you see, I'm thinking about cooking more than usual and Matthew was going to come over and help – "

"I was?"

" – but we weren't sure if you'd be attending, and you eat more than the whole town combined, so it really affects how much Ludwig has to order from town as far as fresh vegetables go. We're really low."

Alfred looked around awkwardly, trying to avoid addressing Elizaveta directly, as to do so, he would have to look at the man sitting next to him on the log. Arthur was sure of it: he was trying not to look at him the best he could, and he was doing a fine job of it. Well then, the Englishman simply wouldn't look at him either. Bloody cowboy.

"Yea, 'course I'll go, Elizaveta – "

Arthur wasn't sure what made his voice interrupt the other, but he began to talk as if the blonde hadn't said a word. "Matthew and I have been growing squash, and we have much more than we originally thought we would; surely you have some recipes that call for a good, hearty squash?" he asked, biting his lip and looking pointedly at Elizaveta, ignoring the stares from the rest of the campsite.

"Why, yes that will be very lovely, thank you Arthur. Perhaps Matthew could drop by early and grab them from you when he comes over to cook – "

"I am?"

" – so that you won't have to come over early." She gave Matthew a dark, ominous look, and he immediately stopped trying to convince her that he would not come over early and cook for her party. Arthur snorted under his breath, and he could hear Alfred's chuckle right behind him. Turning to face the rest of the campsite, Arthur swung his arm over, resting his hand on the log – the warm, callused log – oh shit!

He jerked his hand back, mouth falling open in a flurry of stammers, face lighting up in bright red embarrassment. Alfred seemed to have turned nearly as pink, yanking his hand back as well, the pair making quite a lot of fuss as they tried to apologise for the accident, scooting away from one another, much to the amusement of Elizaveta, who kept trying to push Arthur towards Alfred.

"I – sorry!"

"No, no, it was my fault!"

"But I had mah hand there, it's mine, sorry!"

"Don't worry about it, I should have looked!"

Eventually, the group around them let out a groan and a sigh; Arthur could feel the tension crackling between Alfred and him, but he wasn't sure what he could do about it. Pretend like it doesn't exist? Hope it went away? It had only amplified from the moment that their hands had brushed so quickly, and now the two kept turning red whenever they happened to meet eyes, trying to pay attention to whatever story was being told; Arthur had a suspicion that Gilbert was telling one, much to the dismay of Matthew, seeing as the heroin was a timid, blonde woman with glasses and said 'eh' after every few words.

Arthur let out a sigh, what torture!

---

You guys want a Christmas present? 12:00 tonight, at midnight Eastern Standard Time, the last chapter will be out. I'm really thankful for all of the support, please review after every one of these chapters since they are the last!


	33. I Apologise

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Thirty Three: I Apologise

---

Arthur straightened his bowtie again, promising himself it would be the last time he would do so that night. Matthew was laughing quietly as Gilbert spun him in the air, an odd affection twinkling in the albino's red eyes. Candlelight flickered over the dancers, shadows toppling and tossing and turning, twisting as they moved and bustled about, switching partners in an eloquent symphony, the golden light flattering to everyone in the room. Arthur sighed as Matthew let out an indignant yelp as Gilbert kissed him boldly, making Antonio and Francis whoop and holler. The air was light, the night young and lively, the party sophisticated yet comfortable. Suddenly, a finger tapped his shoulder and he spun around, setting his drink haphazardly on a counter.

But his eyes did not meet blue passionate ones, but passive dark grey ones that were shorter than even he. Arthur had seen this face only one before, the day Braginski died. Kiku, Matthew had called him, pointing him out only minutes before the man's fight with his brother. The blonde had meant for them to meet for a long time, and Arthur could only see why. The man was short but poignant, composed with an air of forced perfection. He bowed curtly, expression still withdrawn, and Arthur could only do the same.

"Dr. Kirkland?" he asked politely, sounding humble yet condescending, and Arthur found himself enchanted to say the least; no one he had met in this town, even Roderich, had the same air of social awareness about them. "Kiku Honda," he said, and Arthur noted how it almost sounded backwards, a little awkward. "It is a pleasure to meet you – I have heard many good things about you," he added, not saying from whom or what. Arthur was not sure whether he was affronted or pleased. While the man was composed, his sense of withdrawal was also frightening; it reminded the doctor of the stiff, dark world that he had come from in rainy England, and he suddenly realised how much he had changed. What pleasantries he now expected, the customs and greetings and manners.

"As have I," he said simply, nodding, when someone else tapped his shoulder from behind. Not wanting to turn his back to the short Asian man, Arthur looked over his shoulder.

"May I steal ya for a moment, I'd really like a dance," Alfred said hushly, a sheepish smile creeping up his jaw, eyes sparkling in the candlelight behind those rimless glasses. His hair had been tamed beautifully, but little tufts stuck out from under his cowboy hat, a strand still sticking up beside that ridiculous cowlick. Arthur couldn't help but try and keep his heart from melting at the sight. He turned to look at Kiku, who had already walked off, and was whisked into a sudden, slow dance, accompanied by Roderich's impeccable piano performace.

"You didn't really give me a choice there, git," Arthur hissed softly, wrapping his arms around the other as they swayed to the music, hardly matching the intricate steps of other pairs. Other _couples_.

Alfred shrugged. "I didn't like seein' ya have a good time with Kiku," he admitted, turning pink and looking away, the softness in his eyes hidden by the shadows of his hat. Arthur tilted his head, face similarly pink from their closeness and in realisation. The world seemed to slow around them, part of a different place as they danced slowly, enamoured with one another, gliding across Elizaveta's rug-covered floors, smiling softly, not caring how foolish they looked.

"We were only introducing ourselves," Arthur reasoned, raising an eyebrow but not mocking the other for his statement.

Alfred looked away, scratching the back of his neck nervously before replying, "Well, yea, but he's all – ya know…"

Arthur raised his eyebrow higher as the taller man dipped him, prompting him to continue.

"Well, he's all fancy an' stuff and I'm not fancy at all, an' I know ya'll 're like all fancy, an' so I thought – "

The doctor snorted and smiled at him. "I'm not interested in Kiku like that, you ass, he's terribly boring," he said tenderly, refusing to let Alfred spin him like a girl in a little dress. The taller man gave him a flat look, making the Brit's guts squirm in discomfort. "I – I'm sorry," he said blankly, looking away and turning red, but Alfred only laughed.

"Oh – dontchya be sorry, Mattie told me all about it."

"He WHAT?"

"He told me thatchya don't really like Gilbert all that much – I mean, I can kinda understand, stole ya good friend he did, didn't he?" he said, completely oblivious to what the shorter man truly meant. Arthur sighed; he wanted Alfred to understand what had happened. How much he had missed him.

Arthur watched him trail off and their dance slowed to a halt, still holding its magic in the air. "Why don't we go outside?" he asked, gesturing to the porch that looked out over the open flats. Alfred perked up and nodded, taking the Englishman's hand and parting the crowd to be alone for a little while.

---

SOOOOOOOB. Two more chapters left! I have one person who reserved the original script for Chapter 25 (A Meeting with a Fugitive). I have two drafts of the final chapter written out, and all of the original scripts for all of the chapters. You must trust me with your address or PO to receive the manuscripts.

_I play wid fir3_: Chapter 25

_Roundabout225_: Interest.

_Elsais_: Interest.

Sorry if I missed you thus far, please send me a private message (oh, but do review as well!). Elsais and Roundabout225 have immediate rights if they would still like any of the original copies of the chapters.

Note that I cannot send them to you until after the Holidays, as I must send them from school.


	34. Of Murmurs and Shouts

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Thirty Four: Of Murmurs and Shouts

---

The glass of the door made an odd squeaking noise as Arthur closed it behind them, the party now a quiet hush in a different world, the candlelight a contrasting gold to the silver of the moon. Stillness held in the air, darkness floating between them, a mist of shadow, separate from the dancing, frivolous lights from inside. Gilbert's laughter pealed in the air, loud even from behind the closed door. Alfred and Arthur stood there, in silence, for some time, like amateurs in a complex waltz, begging for the other to take the lead.

Alfred then did something incredibly unexpected. He took off his hat, placing it over his heart, the other arm bent at the elbow, wrapped over his stomach, and tilted in a gracious bow, Arthur shocked enough to do nothing but stare at the back of his head as the American pulled back up. "May I have this dance?" he asked, the formal words slurred by his Southern speech, a hand out for the other to take. Arthur nodded, willing away the thick paste that had formed in his throat, and took the hand, noticing quickly how much smaller his own hands were than the other's.

The cowboy pulled him into a dance, a sort of tango with a beat much faster than any they had heard Roderich play that night, and Arthur couldn't help but yelp and laugh as they nearly tripped over one another, Alfred swaying his hips and sending them dancing and flying across the small terrace. "You arse, you're doing it all wrong!" Arthur insisted, but Alfred only hummed them a beat, looking down at the Brit with dark eyes as he put a hand up to spin the older man. Arthur growled as he span, feeling girlish and silly, but Alfred grinned widely enough for his smile to light up the entire party indoors, so Arthur found himself spinning again and again until he nearly fell over from dizziness.

The two slowed, Alfred's arms holding Arthur from falling over like a drunken man. "Ya'll are quite the dancer, ya know?" Alfred said, no longer humming, but swaying them to some unknown beat as Arthur rested his spinning head on his shoulder, and did not respond. The cowboy sighed, leaning his jaw into the smaller man's hair as the Englishman tried to stop the horizon from tilting like a boat.

"I didn't apologise properly in there," he stated, still looking over Alfred's shoulder at the desert night sky. The blonde had began to hum again, and Arthur took the way that he hummed an octave higher for a moment as a question. "I meant, I'm sorry for what I said th-that day – you know which one – and I just – I didn't…" Arthur pulled back, now less dizzy from their frantic, passionate dance before, and looking all too serious. He whispered, voice hush and rough, "I really like you, Alfred."

The taller man smiled down at him, though it was not the broad grin that he wielded quite often, but, instead, a tilt of his lips, lopsided unintentionally, his eyes soft behind those clear glasses. "I really like ya too, Arthur," he said, his humming ceased, their dancing slowed to a stop. They stood there, holding one another, looking a little bashful before Alfred continued. "I wanna have somethin' with ya," he clarified, taking his hat off again. Arthur watched him as the little leather strings came out from under his jaw, hair ruffled like feathers where it had been improperly tamed. Suddenly, the doctor found the hat on his own head, a little too large, and scowled up at the other, who had the wide, glowing smile again. "You're a real cute thing," he said, watching Arthur light up red and frown more before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, chuckling at the muffled squeak the shorter man let out. "My little _cliffrose_."

Somehow, their lips met again, but in a more passionate kiss than the first two they had shared together, similar to the dance they had become enthralled in earlier, hot and wet and terribly uncouth. Dear Lord, it was wet, but it was satisfying, as if Arthur had forgotten how to breathe and he just remembered how. My – Alfred's tongue was rather persistent and dominant as well, that's worth a challenge. He tasted like apple pies and a bit of grease and sweat and leather and it was enchanting and endearing and intoxicating. Arthur pressed closer, some sort of guttural sound rising up from within him, fingers tangling in the other's hair, the hat falling off of the doctor's head, hanging from his neck onto his back. There was a holler from indoors, and Arthur flickered his eyes open, lips leaving Alfred's for a moment, their breath still mingling between them to look with half-lidded eyes at the windows of the house, where nearly the whole party was watching them before looking up at the cowboy, whose smirk could have made his heart melt, and kissing him in front of the entire town.

And the entire town roared in triumph. After many long months, Arthur could finally kiss him.

---

BUT WAIT. There's ONE MORE. Ahahahhaha. Two hours guys, two more hours and this fic will be OVER. There will be a long note at the end, though, so I'd love some reviews or messages from you guys about it. I might come up with a USUK Christmas special if Mum doesn't steal me to help prepare the trifle. ;u;

You have all been so wonderful. 3 (Can't wish you Happy Christmas yet) Sorry that I haven't put up more art.


	35. A Wild and Bold Adventure

Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

---

Chapter Thirty Five: A Wild and Bold Adventure

---

Two years passed. Arthur sat, sipping tea, at the same round kitchen table that he always had when the new telephone rang. He settled the cup in its saucer and answered it, listening to the cracking voice on the other end.

"Arty…?" asked a fragile voice.

The doctor nearly spat out his tea. "_Peter_?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh, Arty! You _must_ come home! It's all gone wrong! Mum's dead and Father's off of his box! He's lost nearly all of his money to gambling and I've saved up several hundred pounds in case something happens and the police want to send me to live with Uncle Barry and I don't want to; he drinks so much! Oh, Arty, you have to come home right away! I'm sorry for being such a prick to you, really, I am, but I missed you, and you've been gone so long-!"

Arthur took a long breath, and stared out of the window at the dry barren landscape, the flourishing squash leaves covering a patch of the ground. "Come live with me, Peter."

"_What_?"

Arthur smiled softly, and spoke into the telephone. "Come out West."

"But – Arthur – I mean…"

"It's a bit of a change at first, yea, but you'll grow quite fond of it. Here, get a scrap of paper."

He could hear Peter bustling about for paper and ink. "Got it."

"Write this down: USS Elizabeth to New York. Take the Blue Ridge Train to Washington D.C. Do not leave the train station. Take the Cardinal Train to Phoenix, Arizona. Hail a cab; don't let him ask too many questions. Make him drive you out to Sandy Flats. He'll say he doesn't know where it is, but press him for it. They all know."

Peter scribbled furiously. "I think I have it all down… But Arthur, will this work?"

Arthur chuckled. "Hopefully. A few hundred pounds will get you there, for sure. Change your money over in New York, though, the dollar will get you farther."

"Hey Arty?"

"Hmn?"

"What happened to my rule-abiding brother? The one that wouldn't let me run in the house or look scruffy?"

Arthur pondered this for a moment, looking up at his tea. Boots on the table, chair leaning precariously back as if it were about to fall, sat Alfred Jones, his notorious hat over his eyes as he snoozed in his fiancée's kitchen. "He had a wild and bold adventure, Peter, and, eventually, fell in love."

---

I would like you to know that this is the only chapter under 1000 words.

I will be going back and editing all of the _KATYUSHA_s to _NATALIA_s.

OMFG. IT'S OVER. Wow. Thanks guys. For all the support. And the not-so-support at times, from some of my more… bitter followers. All of it helped in its own strange way. I've learned a lot from you guys, and I can't wait for the next fic.

The future? Not sure yet, but here are some ideas.

I'd like to start off with a two-shot (each chapter will be very very very long) AU (BECAUSE I AM NOW THE MASTER OF AUs. Just kidding.) of a little coffee shop and Punk!England being grouchy when JustFired!Alfred bounces in and decides he'd like to work with his new sweetheart. Spiffented, don't you say a word.

AND/OR : a Hogwarts/Harry Potter AU crossover. I have no plot ideas, anything, yet, and this might be too complicated to delve into, so I can't promise anything. If I do write this, I will start it over the summer, and it will be a very, very long fic. Perhaps about 75 chapters long, with the same sort of mystery-sleuth theme as this. Harry Potter characters will not be involved.

BUT. Even if I don't write either of these, keep on the look out for the comic version of this. Hopefully, I will have one page per week, if I get the support on that that I did for this.

My deviantart, which is where I will post it, is http _COLON_ // xvgrayeaglevx _DOT_ deviantart _DOT_ com. Keep in touch, I love to hear from all of you. If you have any ideas of plots, please, send them my way! I loved this chapter fic, and all of you guys who helped pull me through.

Happy Christmas and have a wonderful New Year. Don't get smashed, it's not worth it.

Love, Iggy.

Written: December 13, 2009.


End file.
